


Nowhere to Hyde

by 630Kame (Kame630), Gretactic, Kame630



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Angels, Biting, Blood, Co-Written, Confusion, Crawly is a demon, Crowley/Crawly, Crowly is an Angel, Demon, Duality in one character, From a roleplay, Jekyll and Hyde, Jekyll and Hyde AU, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Touching, RP, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-10-21 16:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20696267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kame630/pseuds/630Kame, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gretactic/pseuds/Gretactic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kame630/pseuds/Kame630
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are heaven's representatives on earth. But when a purification ritual goes wrong, it unleashes a new evil onto the streets of London.Rated Explicit for later chapters





	1. A ritual went wrong - part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the tags, this one gets dark!
> 
> This is an edited and cleaned up Roleplay, all written through dms on discord. So if the format jumps back and forth a little, then that's why. 
> 
> In this case, I'm the one writing Crowley

Crowley wasn't exactly sure how he arrived back in London, or how long it took him to half collapse into the townhouse he was sharing with Aziraphale. He barely made it through the door, shaking, leaning against the wall for support, and just trying to pull himself together and work out what exactly had gone wrong.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, hair wild, eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears, and streaked with blood. He felt sick. The blood clung through his clothes, the rain having only soaked it in deeper. And he gave a strangled sob knowing whose blood it must be.

At the unexpected noise of rustling downstairs, Aziraphale sat silent, trying to hear who just walked into the house. He eyed the grandfather clock in his study room, mentally taking note of the time. It was past midnight. Crowley was supposed to be back early in the morning.

So why is he here now?

Could it even be him?

The angel stood up from his seat, placing the book he was currently reading down on the wooden desk and silently stepped towards the door. He pressed his ear against the surface of it, trying to catch any kind of other sounds. Anything, just to comfort his growing worry. 

But then... a sob? That must be Crowley!

"Crowley?" Aziraphale questioned, finally mustering up the courage to open the door and head towards the stairs. "Crowley, is that you?"

"Yeah... do.down here." His voice was strained but he hoped it carried up the stairs. He almost slid down to the floor, but forced himself to stay upright and stumbled into the living room, all but collapsing onto the settee. His head was spinning, not sure what was going on, but unable to stop himself shaking.

Aziraphale only heard a few inaudible mumbles, but it definitely sounded as if the fellow Angel was unwell. "I'm coming," The blond silently murmured to himself, before rushing down the stairs as best as he could with his inconvenient slippers.

He took a moment to examine the hallway, which was mostly trashed around - nearly all of the minor decorations and souvenirs knocked down to the ground. "What is the matter with you, Crowley? It's as if you--" 

The Angel paused, taking a moment to switch the light on and finally see the one responsible for this. But his silver eyes only widened. "Oh good Lord."

Crowley managed a short humourless laugh when Aziraphale asked what was wrong with him. He wished he knew. He'd never been in shock before, he doesn't really know what was going on, but he's finally sat in his own home and it's like its crashing down even heavier now.

"Some.... it went wrong." Stating the obvious, but his voice sounds hollow like he's not fully conscious, or aware of his own words. He doesn't lift his head from where he's cradling it in his hands when he speaks, doesn't acknowledge his fellow Angel except by talking. He just can't stop himself from shaking. "I.... I think Raziel is..." His voice trails off into a dry strained sound. The death of a fellow Angel, one who he was working beside, weighed heavy on his heart, but at the same time doesn't feel quite real.

The silver eyes continued to stare at the other, unable to peer his eyes away from the blood that stained the rich fabric of Crowley's clothes. He didn't know what to do: what to start asking, but what he did know was that a fellow angel was no longer upon them.

"...D-Dead?" Aziraphale finished his sentence with a stutter, already experiencing the disbelief of Raziel dying. He was a close companion, like the humans call it - somebody you can trust and talk about almost anything. Similarly to Crowley.

"But... how? What really happened?" With a feeling of nervousness, the Angel edged closer, wanting to get close enough to place a hand on his shoulder and reassure the other. But the last thing he wanted was to go too far and make the other Angel snap.

Crowley shut his eyes tight, nodding his head sharply once. Hearing the word shocked right through him, made it feel more real. "Not discorporated he... actually." Crowley swallowed, trying to pull himself back together, but it's like his body refused to move on, or calm down in any way. Raziel was a friend, one of the few other Angels who would come down to earth to assist them when needed, and now he was gone.

"I....I'm not sure." And that's when his voice became laced with fear, because he'd been trying to ignore it, the blank spots into his memory. He blinked, lifting his head as if he was only just realising where he was. "I... I do not remember getting back."

Aziraphale wasn't completely clear on what was worse: Crowley knowing every single detail about what happened, but for some unknown reason _ lying _ to him, or not remembering anything. Perhaps he still remembers where it happened though?

"I will head out and deal with it once you feel better. It would be silly of me to leave you in this kind of horrible state..." The Angel stepped back to examine the other. He looked beyond broken, and the last time he saw that kind of look was on an angel before falling.

"Do you... you need anything to regain your composure?"

"I can show you where, just..." Crowley was a mess, not knowing what was wrong with him. Did he block the memory because it was too horrible? How did he get home and not remember getting here? "I... I don't know. Sorry I. I shouldn't have worried you." His shaking was starting to lessen now, but he was starting to feel numb instead.

"It... whatever it was was evil. Evil stronger than I've ever felt." That was the only thing he remembered, the overwhelming darkness and the feeling of something more evil then he'd experienced before. 

"I don't want you going there alone." His voice was firm, yellow eyes suddenly alight with worry and fear. Not Aziraphale, if whatever caused it had killed Raziel, then he wasn't risking Aziraphale's life by letting him go alone. "Just. Just give me a few moments."

Aziraphale brushed off the apology about worrying him. He would’ve found out one way or another, and it might be in a dire state. He assumed Heaven did not know, or else they would be sent back up there immediately to answer questions given by the Archangels. 

“Well, I would assume so. I wouldn’t expect anything _ but _ something evil to be the cause of this.” The Angel murmured, letting his hand lift up from the other’s shoulder, while he circled Crowley and stood in front of him.

Unless? No. No. Crowley would never do such a thing. For all he knew, he never saw any dirty looks towards Raziel, or overheard anything vile slipping out of the Angel’s mouth.

Crowley immediately missed the comforting hand on his shoulder, the physical contact had helped ground him back in reality. Instead he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself enough to go back. They didn't need to breath, but living on earth for so long, they'd picked up the habit, and it helped sometimes. 

He didn't want to go back. Every atom of his existence was screaming at him to stay away. But it would need to be dealt with, and the longer he put it off, the worse it would be. If he didn't go back, then Aziraphale would go alone, and he couldn't risk that. He couldn't remember what happened, but it must have been horrific. Couldn't put another Angel in danger, especially not Aziraphale.

Angels were suppose to love all living things equally, but he knew that he personally loved Aziraphale above the other Angels, possibly even humanity itself. Not that he would, or could, ever admit it. Aziraphale wouldn't return his affections, and he didn't know if selfish love was worthy of _ the fall _.

Taking a few more deep breaths, he finally managed to stop shaking enough to click his fingers, cleaning his clothes and making himself presentable once more. It was probably a frivolous miracle, and pointless, but he felt a little better now he wasn't caked in angelic blood, and tried to push that thought out of his head.

"It must have been straight from hell itself. Are... you sure you want to see?"

The question left the Angel frozen, to question himself whether it truly was a good idea to risk their lives going back to the place where another Angel had recently died. What if that demonic creature from Hell itself was still there? What if it was just waiting for Crowley to go back, get some support but immediately fall into the traps of Hell once they go there?

But they had to. If they didn’t do it now, they would be forced to do so by Heaven up above, where no questions or arguments will even dare to slip out of their mouths. 

With an endangered sense of responsibility, Aziraphale nodded his head and followed the lead of changing his clothes to something more comfortable, with the help of a little miracle.

“There’s no other way.” He murmured, eyes lowering. Aziraphale was the Principality, and even more – the Weapon of Heaven. He was brought up to prepare for a battle with a Demon, or anything that Hell decided to throw at him, to destroy them. The only downside to this, was that said Principality did not have his ultimate weapon with him: the Flaming Sword. “We must go as soon as possible.”

"You're right, of course." Crowley looked down to the floor. There really wasn't any other way, either they needed to battle this great Evil, or at the very least, clear up Raziel's remains, either way, he shivered at the thought. He wasn't ready, but he doubted he would ever be. Judging by how much blood had been caked in his clothes, it was not going to be a pretty sight. He was not a fighter, he was a healer, a being of peace, not war. He _ could _ fight, as all Angels could, but it was not his specialty. The irony being he could not heal his own troubled mind right now.

The opposition hadn't made such a brazen attack against them in millennia. Since the war was brought to an uneasy standstill. They battled over humanity now, trying to bless and tempt them into being beings of good or evil, and usually landing somewhere in between. Such a vicious attack against one of their own, it could have serious consequences if Hell was taking a stand after all these years.

Crowley stood, his body seeming more sure than he was, focusing on a single task, because he just wanted to get this done and have it be over with. He felt numb, a better alternative to the wreck of an Angel he felt like, and had looked when he came through the door that evening. "It's not far, just outside of central London." He really couldn't remember stumbling home in such a state.

“Outside of Central London?” Aziraphale echoed the other, seeing the fact that Crowley was not able to remember his journey back home as a little baffling. It must have taken a long time, so surely he must've remembered something at the minimum at least. “Are you sure you couldn’t remember anything?”

The Angel grabbed his coat as he headed over to the front door, and hurriedly slipped it on his suit-covered figure, while waiting for Crowley to snap back to reality and head outside. If they were lucky, they could catch a carriage, even when they’re quite rare at this ungodly hour. If not, one of them could miracle it into place. 

However, that was more of a risqué move. They couldn’t perform too many miracles for no apparent reason, or else, it may look too suspicious for those keeping track of them.

It's not until Aziraphale speaks that he realises too, it was a fair distance away, not far but certainly not nearby. Just how much couldn't he remember? He swallowed, his panic threatening to resurface, shaking his head, not knowing what to say. It scared him, to have no memory of it. "Just. Sudden darkness, and evil. Then next thing I know I'm stumbling home in the state you saw me." 

Crowley didn't grab a coat, half hoping the chill of the night's wind might help keep him focused, and uncomfortable enough to distract him from the war going on in his own mind. They could miracle themselves straight there, but that was too big a miracle, they tended to avoid those when they can. And if Heaven hadn't been informed of what happened, then best not bring it to their attention until they'd assessed the situation properly.

He hoped there would be a carriage, and there was one nearby. By miracle or chance, Crowley couldn't say, because he wasn't confident in anything right now.

Evil. The constant reminder that Hell was possibly behind this... because how could a mortal human kill an Angel, and cause for another to run away in fear? 

“Right. Let’s head over to the carriage then.” Aziraphale bit his lip as he inhaled the icy cold breeze of London at midnight, the occasional wind making the loose fabric of his trench coat to float along to the side as he headed over to the said vehicle. The weather threatened to worsen at any moment, cancelling the idea of walking by foot that the back of his head suggested before.

The Angel waved over at the coachman, who stood besides the horse-drawn carriage, and opened the door for the two upcoming passengers. “Good evening, gentlemen. Where to?”

Crowley was trying not to think about the cowardice of running away. He didn't remember running, he didn't remember anything. He hadn't been panicked and scared when he stumbled home, not as if he was struck by terror, but shaken to his very core. But if he had ran, then what kind of Angel _ was _ he. Instead of facing down evil, he'd saved his own skin. Or did he? If he was a coward, then would that be enough to have his wings? Now he was just working himself up again, and he needed to try and keep a clear head.

He gave the instructions to the coach driver, short and efficient, he directed them a little further away from the area because he didn't want a human getting too close. If not just for the evil, then for fear of what he would see. He settled into the coach, crossing his arms over his chest for warmth as much as to close himself off from his own thoughts. An Angel, a friend, he corrected, had died today, and whatever turmoil he was in, it could have been worse.

Aziraphale, even though making sure not to show his inner emotions, has been worrying endlessly over the location that they were about to head into. He did not even have any sort of weapon that could protect him in any way, though if things come dire, he _ could _ transform into his true Angelic form.

His silver eyes glanced to the side to examine the Angel besides him, almost immediately noticing the anxiety seeping out of his soul. They were both at the edge of their seat, but that had to change. 

“Keep it together, dear.” The Principality hissed quietly, hoping that the order got him into his senses at the very least. They both had to act like unsuspicious Angels for the sake of Heaven, and like normal gentlemen in the Victorian Central London.

Crowley was trying to mask his emotions, but he'd always been a bit too open, more emotionally invested than an Angel strictly should be. He asked questions, and thought too much about the answers.

"Sorry." He sat up a little straighter, his arms relaxed slightly where they were still crossed, trying to appear more casual, and less like he was as tense as a bowstring. He wasn't usually like this, usually he was confident, cracking jokes and not being affected. It must just be the stress, making him all out of sorts. "Just on edge I guess."

“No need to apologise.”

Aziraphale turned his head to the window on his side, silently examining the mist haunting the streets of Cavendish Square, as the carriage drove through it. Everything seemed so uncomfortably dark and eerie, that it sent shivers down the Angel’s spine.

Throughout the journey, he decided to stay silent. Whether that was a good decision, he did not know, because once he stepped out of the carriage, he was lacking his confidence once more. “Thank you, Sir. We may need you once more in less than an hour.” Aziraphale spoke out to the gentleman, paying him for the ride, as well as adding an extra tip. “Is this the area, Crowley?”

The silence didn't do much to bring Crowley out of his own anxiety driven mind, but he tried to keep it in check, because Aziraphale was right, he needed to pull himself together. Lord, once this is over he plans to sleep for a week, maybe it wasn't a great idea, or very sensible as an Angel to take a break from the waking world, but he needed to not feel for a while after this. If he could even rest with how worried he was.

They arrived all too soon. It had taken a little while to get there by carriage, just how long had it taken him to stumble home on foot before? And why couldn't he remember any of it... He mumbled a quick thank you to the driver, too preoccupied for the politeness.

"Just up the road. We needed an open area for the purification ritual." It was away from the roads, and Crowley was already regretting not bringing his coat, but the cold bite in the air was indeed helping distract him, which was the point. He led Aziraphale to the area, and felt the sickness immediately return to his body.

The runes and sigil were still visible, but not much. Raziel's body was far from in one piece, it looked as if it had been torn apart by some feral wild animal, it barely even resembled a body anymore. Any lingering holiness from two angel beings performing a ritual of light was completely gone, and replaced by the stench of evil all around. But not as powerful as it had been before.

Instead of allowing the other, already shook to the core, Angel to continue to lead the way, Aziraphale took matters into his own hand and stepped towards the murder scene himself. His face turned in disgust, though kept himself stubborn about continuing to walk to the sigil.

The sight of Raziel's shredded up body wasn’t the only thing that disturbed him. It seemed as if the sense of evil wasn’t even present at this moment, leaving the Principality mildly confused on why it left so soon. 

Nevertheless, he decided not to question it, as not needing to fight a demon to death was right up his alley at the moment.

“Good Lord Almighty.” Aziraphale murmured to himself as he examined what was left of the corpse – guts and blood that came out of it, spilled everywhere around the place. He swallowed thickly. _ How are they going to get rid of the body? _ “Are you... feeling alright back there, Crowley?”

Crowley didn't answer, his body completely frozen, eyes wide as he stared at the scene without seeing. He opened his mouth to speak, but barely any noise came out before it clamped shut again. Being back here was pulling something at the back of his mind, something dark and forbidden, that caused pain to split through his head enough to make him stumble backwards and clutch at his temples.

The sight seemed to trigger someone inside him, and it came over him in waves. Not quite memories, not of events, or how it happened, but sensation. He felt terror, and rage, darkness so black he couldn't see through it. He feels the sensation of blood, and hears the pained screams of an Angelic being torn to shreds.

_ Shishitshitshit _. His eyes fly open, searching around for if it was still here. He could feel the evil, not prominent, not like before. But it was there, echos of it. Part of him completely forgetting that Aziraphale was even there in his panic.

Aziraphale watched as the other seemed to be trapped in his own panic, immediately regretting letting Crowley come along with him in this unpleasant journey. 

"Crowley!" The Angel raised his voice, marching back towards him in an attempt to once again snap him back to reality. "Crowley, you must calm down. I will deal with this myself, but you must breathe and ease yourself down. You look like a madman."

Aziraphale's voice seemed to snap him out of his own mind, focusing him back into reality and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Sorry I... it's not memory. Just. Suddenly overcome with sensations." In time the humans would come to know this as PTSD, but for now, there was no other word for it but hysteria. "I could feel....I'm sorry. I'll be fine..." He shook his head like he could physically shake the thoughts away.

He followed Aziraphale's advice to just breathe, something he'd apparently stopped doing during his panic, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down again. What the heaven was wrong with him, he was never like this, he usually kept his cool under the worst circumstances. But he was a healer, and this was something that couldn't be healed.

"Right... How. Where do we start?" He needed to do this, to clean this up so he could hopefully move on. He needed to become numb again, but it wasn't something he could exactly control easily. He thanked the lord that whatever caused this wasn't still here.

If the Angel knew that they would be fine with taking up a bit more time with this, he would’ve asked what the matter was in a more serious way, as his fellow Angel began to act too out of character. He never saw him so stressed before.

Aziraphale blinked. Then a bit more, before raising his hand and rubbing his eyes. He needed to focus on the important situation at hand, then deal with Crowley, no matter how selfish it may make the Principality look. 

“Right. We start with the body. We need to get rid of it. Then the blood.” He murmured, taking a step closer to the ritual to examine the body of a friend. He never knew he’ll have to bury any of his close friends into the ground, but today seemed to be the unfortunate day.

Crowley nodded, taking the instructions like an order, something to focus his attention on. They needed to remove what was left of Raziel... no, he couldn't think of it as him anymore, it was just a body, what was left of one. It would be easier to deal with if he could convince himself it was just any old body, and not one that used to belong to a friend. Raziel did not deserve to meet such a fate, no living creature did.

To get rid of the body, they needed to get it to one place, which wasn't going to be an easy task with how it had been ripped apart. But they couldn't leave anything behind. The victim was an angel, and the smallest drop of blood, or anything left behind could still hold power in it.

He set to work, feeling that numbness blissfully come back as he tried to convince himself to be cold, imagine this was some human and not anyone he knew or cared for.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly as he crouched down next to what was left of the corpse and examined the lifeless body. It was horrid, but he couldn’t just get rid of the body without searching for any kind of marks that would signify what kind of Demon caused this. All Demons had their own unique creatures, whether big or small, which linked back to the animals here on Earth. Though as he continued to stare at the body, his silver eyes hooked on the bite marks scattered around the neck that was ripped up. 

Two dots... Vampires? Aren’t they mythical creatures created through rumours of the humans?

He shook his head. He must be going mad from this sight and lingering smell. The Angel bit his lip and tucked his hands underneath the body, just so he could get a firmer grasp and pick it up with ease. Aziraphale frowned as the corpse pressed against his chest, while the head that was nearly ripped off hung down.

“Can... can you tuck his arms in?” The blond asked the favor. He didn’t want any more blood dripping onto the ground while he did his dirty work, especially if it’s the blood of an Angel. They couldn’t just miracle it away, without causing suspicion for Heaven.

Crowley stared at the carcass for a moment, shuddering as something cold washed over him. He felt more than fear, he felt guilt, which he attested to him running away to save his own skin. That wasn't like him either, to run in fear and not take action. But what other explanation could there be?

He stepped forward to help, tucking what was the tattered leftovers of one arm, and then the other in tight, trapping them against the rest of the body. He tried not to look closely enough to see the bite marks, but to no avail. Demons were monsters, vile creatures so twisted as to enjoy causing pain. But this seemed overly brutal. They hadn't just killed, they had torn him to pieces, the bite marks were clean, being for the sake of biting and causing pain, not to tear and rip like the other wounds. A lot of creatures had fangs, it didn't narrow down the type that had done this.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath, feeling a little sinful for thanking the other about such a task. Yes, it was quite simple, but this was their friend, and not only that – a part of Heaven. And now it was destroyed into pieces. Out of context, the future for the two Angels in London could cause them to meet their doom.

“If you can, you should work on getting rid of the blood.” The Angel commanded once more, hoping that Crowley’s focus was back on him and the situation, rather than the thoughts that seemed to haunt him. “I will take a while, but not too long. Try not to get any blood on yourself while you do this.” He murmured, feeling unsure whether he should leave the other Angel alone here or not. What if the Demon comes back for more, and finds the victim that ran away from the scene?

It takes a moment for it to sink in that Aziraphale was going to be leaving him alone here, and his breathing started to quicken before he forced it back, closing his eyes and taking a deep calming breath, wincing slightly as the smell of blood and decay hit his nose stronger. "Yeah... yeah I can do that." His voice was hesitant at first, before becoming steady again. Work on getting rid of the blood, a simple enough task, he could do that.

He didn't even think of the thing coming back, his mind not thinking completely clearly. But this place, and the fact he had no clear memories except blind sensation, unsettled him in a way that Angels should never feel. He focused on the command, finding some level of comfort in following orders, not having to think or make decisions himself.

Once he was sure Aziraphale had the body secured, he stood to start the daunting task of cleaning up so much blood. It seemed more than any living body should be able to bleed, and it stretched far, splattered around the ritual area in a way that suggested the victim had struggled, tried it fight or escape, to no avail. He broke the ritual circle as well for good measure.

Was leaving Crowley all alone in a dangerous place, the place that was the death of an Archangel, a good idea? Probably not. Especially when the Angel would be left all alone in his own misery and grief.

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “I won’t take long.” He tried reassuring again, both himself and Crowley. 

_ I won’t take long, Crowley, I won’t take long. _ He chanted to himself as he turned around and began heading away from the sigil. He fastened his pace as best as he could while holding the corpse in his subconsciously trembling arms, before giving up and teleporting himself to the nearest graveyard. At least he could make up an excuse, perhaps even _ lie _ and get away with it if he was forced to explain himself. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but it would save his wings for sure.

With a breathless groan, the Angel made sure to put down the body on the muddy ground carefully. Aziraphale stood up straight, putting his bloody hands on his hips and taking a second to breathe. _ You deserve a proper burial, Raziel. _

Aziraphale paced around the graveyard, trying to find a shelter, which might conveniently have a shovel laying around. Grave diggers were quite popular now, especially how the rising scientists were bloodthirsty for corpses to dissect and experiment on, in order to start the new evolutions of science. 

Luckily for the Angel, a worn down shovel was leaning against the wooden walls outside the small shelter, which he grabbed immediately – not wanting to waste any time. He stormed back to where he left the corpse, before stabbing the shovel into the ground and beginning to dig. Oh how lucky he was that the soil was moist, making it easier to dig out a hole deep and wide enough for the body of Raziel.

As he continuously shovelled the ground and threw it to the side, Aziraphale couldn’t help but worry about the other close friend he left all alone. Will he be able to deal with the task on his own, and not get distracted by the grieving and whatever else was in his mind? He seemed so out of character this morning, that it only left the Principality to wonder immensely.

“Agh... hurry Aziraphale. Hurry.” He hissed through gritted teeth, a fog of warm air slipping out of his mouth and into the cold breeze.

Stab. The shovel pierced into the ground once more, but this time was left there to not be in the way of the figure looming over the corpse. With a sigh, he slipped his trench coat off of his shoulders and pulled the sleeves off of his wrists, his body shivering in the cold without an extra layer of clothing on. Aziraphale stepped over the hole and set down his coat over it. Then, with a silenced heave, he pulled the Archangel down onto it. Normally the deceased would be placed in coffins, but this will have to do.

The figure stepped back, careful not to fall into the hole himself. “Ah... Raziel. You deserved better than this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when I could’ve been.” Aziraphale murmured under his breath, eyes lowering as he mourned over the deceased friend. After a while, he picked up the shovel, and stared down at the corpse one more. This will be the last time he’s going to see him. To see the face that was hardly recognisable now. 

Nevertheless, the grieving Angel began pouring the dirt back into the hole – covering up the face of pure shock and pain that was inside it.

The moment the Angel was done with his part of the work, he rested the used shovel against the shelter, right where he found it last. Whatever the humans were planning on doing now wasn’t his concern at the very moment. What was important was getting back to Crowley.

With a click of his fingers, Aziraphale disappeared from the graveyard and appeared right in front of the sobbing Angel he has left all alone. His eyes narrowed, pupils scanning the area for anything amongst them, but to his luck found nothing


	2. A ritual went wrong - part 2

Crowley listened to the sound of Aziraphale footstep fading, shuffling off into the distance, and the crackle of divine power as he miracled himself away instead. He took a deep breath, trying not to think at all, or the fact he was alone in this place might drive him mad.

He busied himself with his task, a little rushed in his haste to distract himself from his own mind, and thoughts that were starting to whisper in his head again, trying to force him back into his trauma and panic. Aziraphale would be back soon, he wouldn't have lied about not taking long.

Now alone, the faint sense of evil seemed to get stronger, it was all in his head. It had to be. Oh god in heaven, please let it be in his head. Let it just be his fear and not whatever it is returning. Something was tugging at the back of his mind again, but he refused to acknowledge it, focusing on removing the blood. After a while, the feeling faded, and he was able to think clearly again.

He slowly stood up, taking in the pattern of blood. He could track the victims movements by the blood. Small pools where he'd stood still, drips where he'd been moving, splashes and streaks. It told a gruesome tale, one he was partly glad to have no memory of.

Crowley stared down at the biggest pool of blood, the place where Ra... where the holy was left to bleed and die. Did the creature stay to see it to the end? With the amount of blood it seemed it had left the victim to bleed out. Could he have healed him? If he'd been there instead, would his healing powers have been enough? It was a dangerous train of thought, but he couldn't stop himself.

He hadn't noticed when he fell to his knees, or how he was shaking again, the moisture pricking at his eyes. He didn't notice when the blood was gone, but he kept cleaning the area, eyes blank, and mindlessly working on something he'd been told to do, something he had to do. When he briefly came out of his almost trance like state, the grass was worn and damaged from his work. A wave of his hand fixed it before turning to the next pool of blood.

He didn't want to think, but he'd never felt this feeling before, dissociating himself from his action, no longer grounded by reality and lost in his own mind while his body continued on its own. Thinking about nothing, mind completely blank, and yet body showing how much of a mess he was in his inner turmoil.

Crowley became completly unaware of his own body, occasionally coming to and noticing that the amount of blood was lessening, but not remembering cleaning it. His mind had gone from frantic to numb, and he felt nothing. It was as if he was moving through a thick fog, or in a dream, nothing to ground him to reality and no will to be present in such a place.

His mind must be playing tricks on him, he realised. Because every now and then, he'd feel the darkness return, his eyes would flick down to his own hands and imagine that his nails had grown into black claws, only to blink and see they were normal once again. Was this Madness? Shakily his mind wondered if he was falling, if his traumatic and frantic mind was trying to come to terms with losing his grace. Would he be felled for running?

He was shaking almost to much to continue his work, vision blurring with tears he didn't realise were falling freely from his eyes. He wanted Aziraphale to come back quickly, he promised he would. Because worse than the feeling of being alone, was feeling there was something evil here, watching, waiting to make its move. He ignored it, praying that it was another trick of his tortured mind.

With a click of his fingers, Aziraphale disappeared from the graveyard and appeared right in front of the sobbing Angel he has left all alone. His eyes narrowed, pupils scanning the area for anything amongst them, but to his luck found nothing.

“Crowley?” The figure crouched down in front of him, though not daring to touch the other with his own bloody hands. “Crowley, are you alright? Nothing happened, right?” He began to worry, as the tears continued to run down like a waterfall from those golden eyes that stared into nothing. It didn’t even seem like Crowley was present – only his body was there.

Crowley didn't react, his body still moving on autopilot, moving form one spot of blood to another, lost in his own head and unfeeling, not knowing what was real and what was delusions. When he started to come to, the feeling of not being alone had increased, and he flinched back when he realised there was a figure in front of him, eyes going wide as he scrambled backwards and up to his feet.

"Aziraphale." It took longer than it should for him to realise who it was, his voice a wave of relief as he spoke the other's name. Now he was coming to again, he blinked down at the floor, noticing that most of the blood was cleared, despite him not consciously remembering doing it. He was suddenly aware he was shaking again, and seemed confused as he brought a bloody hand up to feel the wetness running down his cheeks.

"Did... did you take care of the body already?" He hadn't been gone long, or had he? He didn't really have a grasp on the concept of time right now, his mind too much of a mess and not understanding why, or what was happening to him.

Once Crowley shuffled onto his feet, Aziraphale followed suit and stood up, straightening his posture and doing his best to look presentable. Though the blood on his hands just made things look worse. His head nodded in silence, having a little bit of his anxiety down once he got the dirty job done.

“I managed to bury him... I see you’re nearly done.” The Principality examined the area, only seeing a few blood drops here and there, but those could be easily dealt with. However, that did not exactly worry him anymore. His attention was back on Crowley. Aziraphale’s mind kept repeating the thought, but the more he stared at him, the more he realised that he wasn’t just zoning out. “Why... don’t you go and step to the side? I can deal with it from here. You need some rest.”  
Something was wrong with him, but he couldn’t grasp what.

"Yeah." Crowley's voice was a little distant, acknowledging that the job was nearly done, as if he was just realising it himself. It was like half waking from a dream, or a nightmare, consciousness returning but not quite awake, like going through the motions without feeling it.

His eyes drifted back to Aziraphale when he was asked to step aside. There wasn't much work left to do, he noticed that most the sigil had also been worn away, had he done that while clearing the blood? "No I... I want to see it through." His voice wasn't shaking, unlike his body, nor was it broken with sobs as his tears slowed but didn't stop falling. He needed to do something, to help tie this up so he could move on. Maybe that was the closure he needed to return to normal. He hoped so, because he'd never felt as lost as he did in this moment.

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows as his stare lingered for another short while, before stepping back from the sigil and nodding. “...I’ll let you finish then.” He murmured, his breath visible in the dark and freezing fog. Crowley may be right by wanting to continue doing this: maybe it will let him finally ease down. Think straight. Think clearly. To not let the thoughts of fear get into his brain and control his body.

“Once you finish I will miracle away the blood.” The Angel explained, pointing down at the other’s hands, with his own bloodstained ones. He didn’t expect his morning to be like this, but here he was. Waiting for his fellow friend to finish off cleaning the blood of a murder scene, just for the sake of not getting into trouble with Heaven..

Crowley worked carefully but quickly, eager to get this done. It was almost over, and that thought was helping him, spurring him on complete the job so he could leave. Could Aziraphale not feel the evil lingering here? The air was heavy with it, but he could feel that they were the only two beings present.

He didn't feel the bite of the cold air anymore, numb to everything. His tears finally ebbed, whether from closure or simply because he'd run dry, he didn't know. His hands still shook, but not as violently. He could feel Aziraphale's eyes on him, the slight comforting sense of divine grace that usually didn't register between heavenly beings. Before he can realise, the blood is gone from the ground, leaving the area barren and cold, barely a sign of the massacre that had occurred.

He stood, backing up from the area to see if he'd missed anything. Only a faded and broken sigil vaguely visible in the grass. "I think it's done." His voice still void of emotions, numb to everything, but thankfully aware of reality enough to turn and focus on Aziraphale. Waiting for him to make the next move.

A click echoed through the open area covered in the morning fog, and with a little divine sound that only the immortals could hear, the blood vanished from their clothes and hands. Aziraphale glanced down to look at his outfit, making sure that the blood was fully gone. He did not want to get linked up in this in any way.

With an audible huff, the figure took out his white gloves from his pockets and stretched them out so they wouldn’t be coiled up into a ball. He was about to put them on, but he couldn’t help and glance over to Crowley, snapping his fingers again to make a coat from back at home appear on his shoulders. “Let’s not stay here for too long. The carriage is still probably waiting for us.” Aziraphale muttered, sliding his gloves on before heading towards the main street.

Crowley had drifted again, floating off into nothingness, before the heavy weight of his coat manifesting dragged his eyes back to Aziraphale. He hadn't been aware of the cold, but the weight and warmth was welcome, drawing it closed around him a bit, as if he could shield the numbing cold he felt in his chest. "Thank you." He muttered quietly, voice distant like he was further than only a few feet away from his fellow Angel.

"Right." He followed close behind, hands in his pockets, trying to appear more put together than he was. He felt a little lighter with each step he took, taking him away from the site of such horror. He glanced at the sky, still dark in what must be the early morning, it would be hours before the sun started to rise again, and graced the land with its warm light.

“Nothing to worry about.” Aziraphale turned back to Crowley and gave him a weak smile. Perhaps smiling at such a devastating time wasn’t fitting, but he did want to reassure the other; that he was there for him no matter what. They were good friends since the beginning after all, working together for most of the projects and tasks on Earth.

They soon caught up with the carriage that seemed to have given up on waiting and was starting to leave, but the sight of the two gentlemen reappearing into view from the thick fog caused it to stop. “Thank you, good Sir.” The Principality thanked the coachman as he allowed Crowley to get in the carriage first, only to then follow and close the door shut. “Back to where we first came from.” He informed the man, while making himself comfortable in the luxurious seat and blocked in area from the cold.

The driver nodded at the instructions, the only thing that was heard afterwards was the echoing sound of the leash whipping in the air, followed by the noise of horse hooves trotting through the cobblestone layered pathway.

Crowley turned to stare out the window, not seeing much since the fog was laying thick on the ground, even if there was much to see, he probably wouldn't notice. He'd got back to being numb, a faint buzzing in his head drowning out the worst of the noise he couldn't seem to quiet.

"I think I'm going to sleep when we get back." He said, voice quiet and like he wasn't sure he spoke it out loud. They didn't need to sleep, but sometimes Crowley liked it, to indulge in the human act of just shutting down for a little while. Maybe sleep would dispel whatever had come over him. At the very least it should offer him a reprise from it all.

Aziraphale’s eyes glanced over to the figure beside him and gave him a nod of understanding. “I think that may be for the best,” He spoke out a little clearer than Crowley originally did, “A lot has happened over the few hours and you seem beyond exhausted.”

He was genuinely worried about him: the single thought of seeing a fellow companion getting brutally killed and not being able to do anything about it, sent a nasty shudder down Aziraphale’s back. Whatever it was that caused this, he hoped it was long gone and will never dare to come back again.

Exhausted seemed the wrong word. Crowley was drained, physically and mentally. He had some sort of blank spot preventing him from knowing what happened, and the knowledge that he'd apparently been a coward. He hadn't been much of an Angel had he, and he shuddered once again, eyes flicking upwards in worry, fear of being felled for what he couldn't remember doing.

"I don't know what's come over me." He admitted, letting just a little of his worry come out in his voice. It scared him, to be so distant, acting so much unlike his usual self. He'd never lost control of his actions before, but he had only been half aware of himself for hours. Even now he knew he wasn't right, the emptiness he felt as present as a knife in his chest.

The Angel licked the bottom of his lip as he took what Crowley murmured into consideration. Though if he just continued to stay silent and let his own mind haunt over the possibilities on what happened and why, things will only go towards the wrong direction. This was a dark matter to discuss, but he had no choice in order to ease himself.  
“Would you prefer talking it out? It may help more than you believe so.”

He was simply curious. Perhaps too curious, to the point where not knowing what was on Crowley’s mind, while he sat there hugging his own figure in silence, caused great discontent for Aziraphale. Surely, he’d have a lot to talk about. He was the only individual, except Raziel, who was present in the scene and saw the horrors nobody else should have experienced.

"I already told you. I don't have any memory of the event." He sighed, but turned to regard his friend, his own eyes soft but haunted by questions he didn't have the answers to. "Just... sensations. Feelings. It..." He trailed off, not knowing how to put it into words. It was horrible, like a nightmare with no visuals, just the pain and fear. He wanted to explain, but also keep it locked away and pretend it wasn't happening, but he couldn't do either of those things. He was only able to talk now because of how numb he had become, his hands still trembling slightly where they rested in his lap.

"Something is wrong with me." He concluded, turning his face back to the window, his voice pained with emotion. "I keep slipping away from myself. Lost in my own mind." He'd been through a traumatic thing, but he'd never experienced dissociation this strong. Or the way he'd frozen, body shaking and crying without realizing. He'd never gone into shock, or experienced stress that became triggered to the point he ceased to function.

Aziraphale frowned at the Angel, making his own heart ache as he stared at the reflection of the other’s face. It was filled with all sorts of emotions: fear, anxiety, heartbreak, sorrow... Emptiness.

“I apologise for making you go back there... leaving you alone, and letting you suffer even more.” The guilty mumble of the Angel filled the inside of the carriage, which was then hushed by the rattling of the wheels and hooves of the horses colliding against the pathway. Aziraphale leaned in to his window, trying to make out if they were nearly there or not, but by the looks of it, they were just around the corner.

“Before you go to rest, would you like anything to drink? Tea may ease your mind, though wine could work too.”

Crowley shook his head. "It needed to be done... I needed to see it done." There was a bit of closure, knowing that they never needed to set foot there again, that it was all cleaned up and pushed aside. But it didn't ease what had been done. An archangel had died, and he had no memory of his cowardice, or the thing that did it to him. "I'm glad to have the air of evil behind us." Shuddering, because it was only now they were coming away that he realised how the sense of evil had clung to that place, though if Aziraphale had noticed, he hadn't said a word.

"You didn't leave me for long." He tired to assure, his voice no less wrecked than before. In truth he had no idea how long it had been, it felt like seconds, and hours all at the same time. "I have... not been myself. Not since I stumbled home. I hadn't realised how far I must have gone on foot..." He trailed off. It took a short while by carriage, but on foot, that was a long time to stumble in such a state, no wonder he had all but collapsed once he made it through their doorway.

Tea would be a nice relaxing warmth, but wine might help dull the sensations even more. "Wine. Something strong." He decided with a nod, which might have been his first and most easy decision he had made that night.

As the Angel turned his focus back to Crowley, the frown did not leave, though softened a little. “I have no clue how you got home in such condition... but I’m glad you got back safe.” Aziraphale admitted, before feeling a little bump from underneath them and the carriage suddenly stopping.  
Looks like they were finally here. Outside their owned house. For the second or third time over the course of an hour or two, the Angel thanked the coachman and paid for the ride back home.

“Strong wine?” He questioned as he stepped out of the carriage and let the other figure follow the lead and get out too. “I will find something then. But you will have to make sure not to get drunk. Only makes matters worse.” He murmured, already feeling responsible over Crowley's future actions. Aziraphale took out a silver key from his trouser pocket and fiddled with it in the door until the lock decided to open. With a little push, the wooden door opened with ease.

He got home safe, safe but not intact, it was like part of him that had control had been ripped from him. He'd been a shivering mess, not the agent of heaven he was supposed to be. Angels were meant to be stronger than that, and he just felt weak and pathetic, he still felt that way, only the sensation was duller now. He didn't realise that he'd stared off into space again until the carriage came to a stop and Aziraphale was slipping out

He barely acknowledged the coach driver past a nod of acknowledgment while Aziraphale thanked and paid him for his services. He walked towards their door and waited for his companion to unlock it for them to step inside.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't tired, though he was mentally exhausted. "I doubt being drunk could make much difference." He muttered bitterly. He had already lost control over his mind, what could alcohol do to make it worse? The house was a good deal warmer than outside, so he slipped his coat off quickly and hung it on the rack.

“Well it’s better to be sober whenever Heaven decides to come down and question us.” Aziraphale voiced one of his developing fears of today's events. Even though they were done cleaning up the body and the blood, the two Angels were still unsure whether they were done with dealing the situation of an Archangel being brutally murdered, by a beast with immense strength.

The Principality stepped inside the house himself and closed the door behind him. The house was completely silent, except from the echoing footsteps and creaks of the wooden floorboards as the two figures headed over to the living room. “I might have a little drink too.” He murmured under his breath as Aziraphale opened the cabinet – revealing bottles of wine from earlier centuries that were stored inside. His fingers brushed over the bottles, before grabbing one, and two glasses along with it.

With a silent hum, he walked back over to Crowley in order to hand him a wine glass, while he placed his own down on the table to have enough hands to open the bottle.

"Question me you mean." Crowley's voice is laced with bitterness to hide his worry. When they asked him, and he couldn't tell them, they would come to the same conclusion. He was a coward, he let the archangel suffer and die to save his own skin. He would fall, if he wasn't already falling.

He grimaced, knowing that sooner or later they would have to face heaven, face other archangels and tell how one of their own was so brutally destroyed. His hands were still shaking, he didn't notice until he reached for the wine glass, frowning, but failing to stop the tremors. He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the panic threatening to build up again, but forcing himself not to think about it.

“I was part of it too, you do realise that?” The Principality grumbled back, doing his best to not growl at the bitterness seeping through Crowley’s teeth. He didn’t like the attitude, but he knew he had to raise his head high and not let such simple words cut deep into his body.

He began pouring the wine, once the lid of the bottle was unscrewed and placed aside. He started with Crowley’s glass first, though having to make his hand hover over the Angel’s to keep it steady. Poor soul. So shaken after everything... Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, his hand deciding to linger over the other’s freezing skin a little longer, before letting go and tilting the bottle up to stop it from overflowing the glass with even more wine. A third of a quarter should be enough.

“I will be there to side with you, Crowley. I was there, so I have the right to input my opinion into it too.” Aziraphale explained, pouring himself a bit of alcohol too.

"No you weren't." Even Crowley was taken aback by the force behind those words, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to try and rein himself back in. "Sorry.... just. Very on edge. You were there for the clean up, not the..." Murder? Massacre? The brutal destruction of an archangel and friend?

Aziraphale's hand hovers over his hand, steadying the shaking while he pours, the hand warm against his cold skin. He still didn't feel cold, despite his skin being almost frozen to the touch. He has to force himself to sip, instead of throwing it back like he wants, knowing that Aziraphale would chastise him for such an act. His companion thankfully had the mind not to fill it too much for risk of him spilling it, but he still rested it against his leg to steady it between sips. "Thank you." He didn't just mean for the wine. He had no idea where he would be without Aziraphale, he needed the other to ground him, keep him focused.

Describing the Principality as shocked would be an understatement, because the jarring tone of the other Angel caused an emotion to awaken: fear. He must’ve said too much and made him snap. Even then... it was still out of character.

“Right. Yes, I wasn’t... there.” Aziraphale hesitated to talk again, worrying that he will mutter something idiotic and agitate the other more. He took a sip of his own red wine, letting the bitter taste flow over his tongue and down his throat. At least while he drank he couldn’t talk.

But Crowley made him slip out a hum either way, mouth managing to swallow the alcohol before replying to the ‘thank you'. “Nothing to worry about.” His reply was short and simple, as if Aziraphale bit his own tongue from refraining to add anything else. He gulped down more wine and went over to sit down in his armchair, posture not as tense as he always was.

That did not mean he was exactly relaxed either.

"I'm sorry." Crowley flinched, physically feeling the wash of emotion that spikes from Aziraphale when he snaps at him, immediately hating himself for it. What in heaven's name was happening to him? Aziraphale had done nothing wrong, he didn't deserve such harsh words. His chest tightened. The last thing he ever wanted was to upset Aziraphale. And the fear, he couldn't bare it, if his fellow Angel felt threatened by him.

His hands were shaking more now, and he threw back the wine, barely tasting it so he can put the empty glass on the table, ignoring the tapping as his shaking hands set the glass down. He folds his arms over his chest to try and disguise it, but he can feel his whole body start to succumb again now.

"Forgive me I... there's a lot to worry about. I'm sure it's just stress." All the bitterness and force was gone from his voice, ashamed of himself, he sounded wrecked again, heart heavy and emotions bare and vulnerable. "That. D.doesn't excuse my actions." He swallowed, considering his empty wine glass, like he was debating if more alcohol would help settle him or not.

With a raised eyebrow, the shorter figure finished his wine and placed it down on the table silently, unlike Crowley. He examined his shakes and listened to the other speak, hearing the pain in his voice, but not exactly what he was saying. All he kept saying were apologies but... he didn’t need this.

Aziraphale sat up, his silver eyes glancing up to look at Crowley’s face, before immediately getting distracted by the trembling hands. “Crowley.” His voice was firm, contradicting the fear he was feeling just a moment ago, “You need to let some of that stress out so it won't haunt you. If you wish to... take some of the negative emotions storming inside your body out, I would not mind. If not... I suggest sleeping them off, as that has always helped you.” He was the Principality, he had to take care of his fellow Angels in any way, and Crowley was the top priority right now. He doesn’t want him to suffer. He doesn’t deserve it. No one should.

Crowley shoved his hand further under his arms, holding them tightly to try and hide the shaking, he doesn't even know why he's shaking so much, what happened was done, they'd cleared all evidence, and the thing that did it didn't seem to still be present. But he couldn't seem to settle himself. He wasn't acting like himself, but he had no way to control it without knowing what was wrong with him. Even if his power worked on himself, how could a healer, heal something without knowing what was wrong?

"I don't understand what's wrong with me." He admitted, letting out a long shaky breath, his voice more worried and upset then he'd like. His emotions were bare, when they were usually firm and guarded, but he wasn't thinking clearly enough to keep them in check. "If it were anger, I would work through it. Fear or despair would be harder. But I.... I don't know what I'm feeling." He looked away, ashamed and confused and not wanting to feel this vulnerable, but also knowing that he needed Aziraphale, that just the presence of the other Angel kept him alert and in the present. He felt both cold, distant and empty, as well as burning, overwhelmed and over stimulated, all at once, and yet nothing at all. If this was all trauma from what he'd seen, then surely the fact he couldn't remember should dispel it some, but it just made him fear what happened in those blank spots.

Sleep would be a welcome relief, but right now, it was far from his reach, his mind too awake with anxiety and stress to relax enough to allow him the reprieve he so desperately wanted, even when he was so exhausted, body and mind.

Aziraphale let his teeth sink into his bottom lip, before licking them at the taste of the alcohol lingering there. This whole ordeal has caused Crowley to go numb as it seems; making it difficult for him to understand his emotions and what he is feeling. Perhaps even trying to comprehend the difference between them.

With an audible exhale, the Angel got up from his seat and walked over to the other. “What if... the creature-...demon- has somehow manipulated your mind? I have never heard of any of them having such power on another immortal being, but what if it cleared your memories of the situation?” He suggested, now standing in front of Crowley, as he felt that sitting back in his armchair was a tad inconvenient. In all honesty, he might as well be right. Even if that sort of power seems too strong, that demon was able to tear apart an Archangel.

Crowley looked up as Aziraphale approached him, curious, but not afraid as he sat prone before the other Angel. The principality wished only to help him, even if Crowley was being difficult right now. But his expression turned to shock when he heard Aziraphale's suggestion, golden eyes widening. "They... That's not possible, is It?"

The idea of this demon, a creature straight from hell, manipulating his mind, playing with his memories, and other things, it was a terrifying idea. But, maybe that could explain why he feels so wrong, like something has altered, or messed with his head to make him act so unlike himself. "But... why. Why would it not destroy me too?" That was the more disturbing thought. If he had been manipulated, was it still manipulating him, what benefit did hell have to reduce him to such a mess, but let him live. He hoped this theory was wrong, it was all looping back around to one thing that terrified him.  
I'm going to fall.

If heaven didn't strike him down, then being manipulated and influenced by such a creature would surely do it. All the other emotions seem to melt away, except that fear, the deep rooted thing that all Angels strive to avoid at all costs. But If this theory was true, that had to be the aim.

Aziraphale looked down at the other, his eyebrows lowering down into a furrow. “Because it knows that will destroy you.” He murmured, though took a step backwards in order to not look threatening. The last thing he wanted was to terrify the already trembling Angel in front of him.

“But I will do my best to not let that happen. It cannot happen.” He was starting to reassure even himself, not only Crowley, as the thought of his life-long friend being manipulated by a creature from the deepest pits of Hell sent unpleasant shivers down his back. “This probably isn’t right anyways. There’s no way Hell would have such a power, or else they would have won in the battle centuries ago.”

Death would be merciful compared to the fall. He didn't look convinced when Aziraphale said it couldn't happen, fear and worry already clouding the redhead's features only getting stronger. He felt his wings itching to manifest. Perhaps once he was in his bedroom he could pretend that they were in need of a preen. Mostly he wanted to check, to reassure himself that they were still pure white with the light of heaven, and not tainted by something dark in his very soul.

"Aziraphale, you weren't...." Crowley cringed, his harsh words from earlier coming back to him, already feeling enough guilt towards the whole situation. "I've never felt evil so potent before. It was everywhere at once. It was overwhelming with malice..." Whatever it was, it was no normal Demon, it was something from hell, far stronger, and he shivered at the vague memory of sensation. An Angel shouldn't be so overwhelmed by a creature of evil, but it had killed an archangel, their strongest class.  
During his clean up, he hadn't noticed a single drop of demonic blood, and only now was he realizing how unsettling that was. Raziel was no coward, he would have put up a fight, but the only blood to stain the grass was that of an Angel. Their archangel friend wasn't just killed, but completely torn apart, without so much as wounding his adversary.

The Angel’s eyebrows knitted together as he overheard the beginning of the sentence; the familiar one which told him off. What the other was trying to say this time, he wasn't exactly sure about, but assumed that it might be quite similar.

“You may argue with me as much as you want, Crowley. Though it will not stop me from doing the best that I can to keep you safe.” Aziraphale turned on his heels and headed back to the table that was decorated with a bottle of wine and his glass on top. He promised himself he wouldn’t drink anymore, but this was starting to get to him.  
If a demon truly possessed over Crowley – he would be doomed. And if his behaviour kept going downhill, the Principality will not be able to save him. Or his wings.  
Aziraphale swallowed down the alcohol he poured himself in a few gulps, letting it burn his throat as he shuddered in thought.  
He cannot lose somebody else.

"I know. And I'm sorry, I don't mean to be argumentative. I really do appreciate you trying to help." And the honesty in his voice is raw and powerful. Aziraphale doesn't have to try and reassure him, doesn't have to stick by an Angel who might be falling from grace beyond their own control. And Crowley wanted nothing more than for Aziraphale to be calm, and unworried, but he knows that's not an option for either of them at this time.

"I just... I don't want you getting dragged down with me." He admitted with a sigh, probably exposing more than he should in that moment. He would do what he could to protect Aziraphale, would always put the principality before himself, but right now he was the one in need of comfort, and he wasn't sure what to do. He was scared for himself, but he was worried for the person he'd been with since the dawn of man, they'd been through a lot together, but nothing as dark and dangerous as this had happened before.

Crowley hadn't even entertained the thought of a possession, because a demon should not be able to survive in the form of a being of pure love and light. "Pour me another glass?" He requested softly. He would not get drunk over this, he already had a frighteningly lax hold over his facilities right now. He just wanted something to help him relax, because his nerves were tight as a bowstring right now.

Argue. Sigh. Apologise. Drink. Argue. Sigh. Apologise. And drink some more.

That seemed to be the routine of the conversation: all which links back to stressing over the future and what that might mean. But the Angel sighed out nevertheless, feeling a bit relieved as he exhaled the built up air in his lungs. “They have no reason to make you fall, dear. Most Angels would’ve done the same too.”

He picked up the alcohol once Crowley requested for another drink, and headed back to him with the bottle. “Of course,” Aziraphale spoke out with a quiet hum, feeling a tad more relaxed once the burning sensation of the bitter wine mostly vanished over time. He tipped the bottle over and let the remainder of the alcohol to spill out into the empty glass that was placed down, before shaking and tapping the end of the bottle in order to let some of the drops drip down from it.

Crowley looked away when Aziraphale just came out and voiced the thing Crowley hadn't been able to bring himself to say out loud. "If I've been interfered with by hell, then I could be seen as a liability." Crowley voice was tired, sad and still laced with that fear, not able to meet his friends eye because the fear was so personal.

There were so many reasons he could see to be used as grounds for a fall. Him running and leaving an archangel to be destroyed, and especially if he had in fact been manipulated by a being of evil. He was sure heaven would not be as forgiving and understanding as Aziraphale.

Giving some of his fears a voice did seem to be helping though, letting out things that he would usually keep bottled up and to himself. His hands were back to only mildly trembling when he reached for the glass again, not as violently shaking as before, his posture becoming a little less guarded.

Aziraphale stepped back with the bottle and bent down to put it down on the floor next to the armchairs, leaving it there to take out later – or in case the Angels wanted to sober up after a while.

“Well...” He murmured, suggesting more and more things in hope to ease down the other, “Perhaps Heaven didn’t even realise what happened. We would already be there getting questioned if that was the case. Questioning us about...him.” The Principality’s silver eyes lowered down while his body took over control of the half-drunk mind, and made him to go sit down again. He needed some time alone, to think over this once more. This was their friend they’re talking about, but not only that – an Archangel. “Lord...” Aziraphale put a hand to his forehead, while his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.

Could heaven not know one of their higher ranks was gone? Aziraphale had a point, he'd be expecting one of them to appear to them at any point in a rage by now. Archangels were superior to them, they gave them assignments and received their reports, they should be feared and respected as their bosses. But not Raziel. Raziel had always been different, more open and understanding, he had been like a friend rather than a superior.

"He shouldn't have even been there..." Crowley's voice was a little distant again. He hadn't let himself grieve, it was still sinking in that he'd never see his archangel friend's face again, the soft smiles and long talks about humanity. "He offered to help me with the ritual." The purification ritual was tricky, and needed a lot of power and focus for a single Angel, but it shouldn't have been much of a task for two. Raziel had seen that Crowley was intimidated by the ritual and seamlessly stepped in to assist. It should have been a simple routine, nothing should have gone wrong. He shuddered, taking another long sip of wine.

"He... no one deserves what happened to him." He wouldn't wish that kind of brutal destruction on anyone. The state the body had been left in, the amount of blood... "I don't remember but.... I remember the screaming." His voice sounded choked, like he was going to start crying, or just couldn't handle the emotion behind it. When they went back there, he got flashes of terrible things, no sight, but feelings, sensations, and a burst of terrified pained screaming that would haunt him to his own destruction.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that...” Aziraphale's pained silver eyes peeked through the fingers of the hand that rested against his forehead, and stared at Crowley. “I...I should have stopped you two from leaving...”

The Principality never experienced grief this bad before. It sneaked up on him quietly and took him under its arms in an instant. Every memory of Raziel began to play like a song in his aching and weary head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. Aziraphale was lost. Mostly because he had lost a big part of him. A friendship he couldn’t replace easily with anybody. And there’s no way to get that part back, as it was all gone, vanished into the thin air of Central London.

Swallowing down the strangling feeling of misery, the figure stood up from his armchair and cleared his throat. “I apologise. Making you burden more was not my intention.” The Angels were slowly getting more distant from each other, and now it was even more clearer. “I should go back to my paperwork and allow you to rest.”

Crowley's shook his head. "It was supposed to be simple." He should have done it alone. His heart clenched at the thought that if Raziel hadn't stepped in to help, then it could have been Aziraphale in his place, and that thought is somehow worse. He shouldn't put one friend, one of God's chosen, above others, but he did. Aziraphale meant more to him than anyone else, and it hurt to think of losing him, or of him grieving now and not being able to help him.

"No. Talking has helped. You being here has helped a lot." He assured, looking up when Aziraphale claimed to he burdening him more. Aziraphale could never burden him, not anymore than he burdened himself. But they should both have time to grieve, even if Crowley wasn't quite able to accept what had happened enough right now. They'd experienced grief, over humans, or humanity. But no one expected one of their own, an ethereal creature, to ever disappear from their lives forever.

  
"If you wish to be alone, I understand." Even though Crowley was sure he himself would like to stay together, to not feel so alone right now while they were upset and vulnerable. But Aziraphale dealt with stress differently to him, and he wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed, to right himself after such a blow. "I doubt I'll be able to sleep for awhile yet, but I could at least try."

At the comment that the Angel managed to help in some way, a weak smile formed on his face, but didn’t last for long as those quivering lips found more comfort in a frown. “Well, I’ll be in my study room... If you need me, feel free to come inside.”

  
Being alone? Yes, that would be pleasant right now – a moment to breathe and let his mind wander through each thought that was stored earlier, and even now. But at the same time, Aziraphale couldn’t handle loneliness for a great period of time. Perhaps a month or so wouldn’t hurt, as he would always be busy with work, but it might get to him someday.

That has never happened before, due to both Crowley and Raziel working and socialising with him. Though now... one of them was gone.  
His heart sunk down his chest, a hand immediately going over to cling onto his suit in distress.

  
“If you do manage to sleep, I wish for you to have sweet dreams that ignore the pain you may feel inside.”  
And with that, the Principality left, grabbing the empty bottle of wine to throw it out, before going upstairs into his room.

Crowley nodded, knowing he could seek out Aziraphale if he needed, and also that he wouldn't. As much as he didn't want to be alone right now, he knew his friend must need it, he found comfort in being alone to sort out his thoughts, and he couldn't deny him that.

  
He sat there for awhile, lost in his own thoughts and feelings, before he stood to make his way to his own room. He didn't even bother to get dressed, half collapsing onto the bed, before sitting back up. He needed to see, needed to check if he was tainted, or falling, the fear not having subsided much.

Rolling his shoulders back, he manifested his wings, slowly bringing them to wrap around himself, and found some comfort in the shelter. They were still white, and he felt like he could cry at the confirmation that he was still holy, still pure and untainted. He wasn't falling, at least not yet. He ran his fingers through the feathers softly, letting them cocoon around his form as he buried his head in his knees, feeling tears slip out on their own.

  
His wings were gone by the time his head finally hit the pillow, letting the exhaustion and emotions wear him down until he wasn't able to stay awake any longer. He drifted off, feeling numb and emotionless, welcoming the embrace of unconsciousness.


	3. A Demon in the Streets - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters is where the fic earns it's explicit rating. 
> 
> Warning for non-con (it doesn't go alone the way)

Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he couldn’t handle loneliness after a while. Crowley didn’t visit Aziraphale for 9 days now, which normally went by quickly, but now... Without both of his close friends by his side, he felt alone in this world. 

The Principality pushed himself out from his desk, the chair going back a little until halted by the carpet scrunching up from the force. Aziraphale got up, quietly pushing the chair back into place before fixing the carpet.  _ Right. Time to check upon Crowley, _ was all he could think of while tidying up his desk before leaving the room. 

Though as he walked out in the hallway and reached for the door handle of the Angel’s room, he paused and felt a shiver run down his back. He could already feel something wrong, but what... that he did not know. Nevertheless, he turned the handle down and pushed the door open, and came across... nothing.

“Crowley..?” Aziraphale stepped into the room, the feeling of anxiety deciding to continue to haunt him. “Crowley... I hope you’re not playing one of those games with me again... gHk!--” The sudden sound of an ear-ringing scream made the Angel jump out from his standing spot, taking in his surroundings once more.  _ It came from outside... who could it be at this hour? _

Without taking in any information of what may be outside the window, the Principality had the urge to miracle himself outside, hidden in the shadows of the city. He had to protect an innocent human from any evil deeds at all costs. That was his job.

Outside there was a dark chuckle, the screaming coming from underneath the being pinning it's poor unsuspecting victim against the filthy wall of the alley way. "Screaming will do no good my dear, there is no one to stop me from doing exactly as I want with you." The voice was low, but more of a playful edge to it, like he was fully enjoying the sheer terror of his prey.

He was clad entirely in black clothing, blending into the shadows if not for his long, wild red hair. When he turned his head, it revealed a dark set of glasses that covered his eyes, contrasting with his pale skin.

He was new, experimenting and acting on instinct. Filled with naked desires, a pull towards sin, and practically dripping with it. But whatever he was planning to do with the poor person seemed to pause, and he stepped back with his head tilted to the side, a smirk pulling his lips when he felt something near by. An angelic presence, a very familiar presence that made him purr, turning towards the being of grace. "Why,  _ angel _ . To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Aziraphale already felt the presence of evil, an inhumane amount too, before the figure turned to stare right where he was hiding. His heart dropped, missing a beat or two as he stared back at this man.  _ How did he know... _

But he had to be brave. He cannot allow such sinful actions of lust from  _ anybody _ . If only he had his sword... He would seem more threatening, whether to a demon or even a human.

“Get away from her, foul demon!” The Angel stepped out of the shadows once his body found back the courage he was fueled with earlier, his voice storing in so much fury that he already felt at the sight of him. “You have no right to touch this young lady!”

"Very well" He stepped further away and the woman was quick to gather her ripped clothes together and run for her life, but the predator didn't seem the least bit interested as his prey escapes him. He has a much more interesting quarry to pursue. He didn't so much as walk, as sauntered towards the Angel, hips swaying sinfully as he stalked closer.

"Why would I bother with a snack when the main course just put itssself on my plate?" His voice was like velvet, but there was a darkness to his tone, along with the serpentine hiss. He grinned, mouth a little too wide to be human, and revealing sharp fangs. "And here I thought tonight would be uneventful."

Aziraphale stared as the woman ran away, quickly blessing her before she disappeared. His mouth allowed for a quick sigh to escape, another fear gone of needing to force the pervert to get off the lady, but he didn’t seem that interested anymore.

Hold on... the silver eyes widened at the sight of the ear-to-ear, wicked grin that bared the fangs of what finally concluded he wasn’t human. Some kind of immortal, he assumed, because he didn’t even flinch or whimper at the sight of an Angel.

Adrenaline flooded his system. It pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape out his body. He wants to leave, he  _ has _ to leave, but he just can’t. “That does not mean you can come any closer to me, either.” Aziraphale snapped back, feeling the rush of energy run through his arms, which caused his hands to clutch into fists.

When Aziraphale's eyes widened, the figure's grin only seemed to stretch impossibly wider. "What's wrong angel, surprised to see me?" His voice had an odd air of familiarity, as if this creature knew Aziraphale, and was past the distant tone of talking to a stranger. He reached up to remove his glasses, revealing yellow and gold reptilian eyes, demonic and hungry. He continued to advance, slowly now, like he was drawing it out on purpose, defying the obvious suggestion not to get any closer.

He took a long sniff of the air, exhaling like a connoisseur of fine wine who just tasted an excellent vintage. "So pure. Do I frighten you, angel?" His voice was playful now, enjoying toying with the other. Without his glasses, it was easy to see how he was openly eyeing Aziraphale, his gaze travelling all the way down his body, and then back up.

With every step forward the figure took, Aziraphale backed himself away, knowing that letting it anywhere near him will cause a massive problem which he might not be able to get out easily without a fight. 

Fear was wisdom in the face of danger.

Does he know me from somewhere? He talks as if he knows—Oh Lord. The Principality stopped for a small moment, finally getting to see the individual’s eyes, which only sped up his poor heart and pumped more adrenaline to  ** _run away_ ** . Demon. Demon! What’s a Demon doing here so close to where he lived? No wonder he seems familiar with me. He must’ve heard of Heaven’s Principalities and Archangels.

Of course he was afraid, knowing what these creatures from Hell could cause – what they did to his dear friend. Oh, God have mercy, do not let him be the same Demon that destroyed poor Raziel. Good God, where is Crowley?!

“Get away, or else you will face odious consequences for your actions!” Aziraphale’s pace quickened, the adrenaline beginning to take over his mind as he watched those vibrant reptilian eyes scan over his body.

The Demon shifted to the side before he advanced, taking advantage of the Angel walking backwards and not paying attention to where he's going, he was backing up blindly, it would only take a shift for him to change the directory so he backed himself into the wall. And after that... Well it was all up to him what he decided to do once he had his Angel pinned. He was new, a fresh creature of temptation and sin and he was planning to have all the fun he can now he's finally been set loose.

"And what consequences would that be, little angel? Little  _ Aziraphale _ ." He purred the name, knowing that the knowledge that he knows him would catch his prey even more off guard. He was playing with him, knowing that he had the advantage here. "Oh yes, I know you. And I also know you do not have your sword. No friends are going to come running to your rescue."

The silver eyes of the immortal widened, taken aback at the knowledge the Demon was aware of. He knew he was even more vulnerable now. There was no use hiding it anymore. But...

“How do you--?” Aziraphale gasped out, though cut himself out as he bumped back into the brick wall of the back of a house. Despite that, he did not freeze. Not now. He knew what the Demon was planning, so he decided to immediately dodge past him and back into the open street once more. Without his sword, the Principality couldn’t protect himself properly from an evil being... or even worse, an evil being from Hell. 

_ This was his only choice now. _

With a grunt he took another step rearwards and let his body arch back as his wings ripped out from his back. His pearl white wings were nearly as tall as his body, arcing off his back like a concave reflection. Each long, narrow feather tensed and shook in his heaving fury.  _ Hurry, Aziraphale, hurry. _

The Demon's playful aura seemed do drop to something more dangerous, the Angel slipping from its grasp didn't bother him, but the sudden power, the fact Aziraphale had the audacity to try  _ threatening _ him with his full heavenly powers. Before Aziraphale could summon more of his power, he was quickly pinned against the opposite wall by his neck, the Demon growling low in his throat. 

"Bad move." The hands tightened around Aziraphale's throat, sharp black claws threatening to break the skin "I've struck down an archangel, do you think I couldn't do worse to a  _ Principality _ ? " There was danger in his eyes, a wrathful tone to his voice, threatening and dark, leaving no mistakes that he was not making empty threats.

The Principality felt his back and wings smash against the wall, letting his wings lower with a whimper. If the claws weren’t dug deep into his neck, he would’ve used his swan-like wings to bash over the Demon and distract him. But all he could do now was stare into those haunting eyes, glaring into his soul. 

“Ngh-- y-you!” Aziraphale choked out, his own hands grabbing onto the arm that pinned him down.  _ This _ was the Demon that killed Raziel?  _ Oh, Lord. You’ve showed no mercy for the past week. _ “L-Let...gh...go-" All that was audible was the sounds of wheezing and coughs that lacked the air in his lungs, rather than what he was trying to speak out. This is his doom. He’s going to have a similar death to the Archangel, and will never be able to see Crowley again. Leaving him alone. All by himself.

Another choke escaped through the gritted teeth, tears making the eyes filled with terror shine under the dim light of the moonlight.

"Listen, and hear what I'm saying you sssstupid little Angel." His growl turned into more of a hiss, but his grip lessened ever so slowly, letting Aziraphale take in some much needed deeper breaths. "If I wanted you dead, then I wouldn't be taking my time with you." His growl lost some of its intensity, and for a moment his eyes looked past Aziraphale, there seemed to be a flicker or something in his eyes, like he was conflicted over something, before they turned back to lock with fearful Angelic steel.

"I intend to have sssome fun tonight. That's not going to happen if you attempt to smite me. So you're going to be a good little Angel, aren't you?" His voice turned into a mocking sweetness, a long serpentine tongue flicking out to wet his lips, while his free hand trailed his claws oh so gently down one pure white wing. 

"I could always find a human to entertain myself, but that wouldn't be as fun, and I wouldn't think twice about discarding them once I was through with my little games." He sounded in he was musing over the possibilities, but it was clear he had no real interest.

A single tear threatened to roll down the Angel’s puffy cheeks as he had no other choice but to listen to the Demon hissing at him. His legs felt weak, running out of the adrenaline that was the thing to get him going on his feet anyways. If it weren’t for the hand that held him by the throat, he wouldn’t be standing so upright, or be as full of energy as he was before  _ nearly _ showing his true form. 

With the access of air, Aziraphale choked out another sob, a few tears rolling down his face as he tucked his massive wings against his back in defeat, rather than having them splayed out. 

“Y-Your  _ ’games' _ are all twisted.” The Principality couldn't help but growl out with his hoarse voice, watching in disgust the tongue that brushed over the Demon's bottom lip.

"Naturally you would see it that way. Heaven keeps its Angels so pure, shields you from the pleasures of this world." His claw now trailed down Aziraphale's cheek, following the path that tear would take if he let it fall. "Such a pity. Sssssin feels so good when you let yourself give in to it." He purrs, like the offer is so tantalisingly tempting he doesn't understand why anyone would ever fight it.

"What is it you think I intend to do to you I wonder? What kind of games do you think a creature such as me would like to play." His hand shifts, opening just enough for him to bring his head down and paint a long streak up the Angels neck with his tongue, his thumb pressed just enough against his windpipe to almost dare him to try and wriggle out of his grasp.

“I will not give in to your temptations--! Ghk!” Aziraphale didn’t receive too much time to snap back at the Demon, as the claw that first cupped his cheek was once again back on his neck, lifting his head up, as well as pressing down to his throat. 

Though the feeling of a tongue running up his neck triggered some of his adrenaline back. At first he whimpered with a shiver that rushed through his body, making his shoulders and back shudder, before the Angel’s eyes shot open and decided he wasn’t going to be a part of this. He tried sinking his own nails into the arm that Aziraphale gripped on, but they were nothing compared to the claws the Demon used against him. Nevertheless, he kept trying, until his leg raised up to try and kick him away. However, to his dismay, the figure was too close for a kick to affect him in any way.

_ He needed to get away, he couldn’t let a Demon take such advantage of him. _

"Hmm you taste  _ devine _ ." The Demon purred, sarcasm and irony dripping from his little pun, seeming to be enjoying himself very much. The whimper and shiver only fueled him more, causing him to shudder in delight. Oh, this Angel was too delicious, he just wanted to eat him up. "Such a pity. So many opportunities for pleasure that you're denying yourself."

"Still got some fight in you? Good." The blunt nails biting into his arm only made him hum in satisfaction, stepping even closer so their bodies were pressed together, effectively stopping anymore attempts to kick out at him. "You never Answered me angel. What do you believe my end goal is here?" His fingers moved to close the gap he'd made, loosening just a little more to see what the spirited Angel would do.

At the worry of having his air cut out a second time, Aziraphale inhaled sharply as the Demon stepped closer, right until his body held the Angel down to the wall. His eyes hurriedly looked at his own surroundings, perhaps there might be something distracting in the distance, but all that was present was a thick fog that was going to engulf them into the centre of it any moment now. 

His eyes were back on the ones that stared at him, like a bloodthirsty predator looking at his unsuspecting prey. But he let out a growl, letting one of his hands release the arm that he'd dug his nails into, before letting it swing back and slap the red-head's face. 

“I do not answer to demons like you!” Aziraphale snarled, wanting for the other to know that he  _ will not _ give up in any way, shape, or form.

He hadn't been expecting the slap, his head tuning to the side with the force of it. For a moment his eyes flickered again, but then they narrowed with a dark chuckle, slowly turning back to Aziraphale. "Oh angel. You're going to be a lot of fun, aren't you?" His mouth widened to an unsettlingly wide smirk.

His free hand roughly grabbed the collar of Aziraphale's shirt, and ripped it to the side, causing buttons to break and the fabric to tear, revealing a little more skin from his neck to his collar. "Let me return the favour." Like a coiled viper, he gave no time for a reaction, before darting his head forwards to bite down on the revealed area, sharp fangs piercing the skin in a deep bruising bite.

The Angel let out a shaky breath as the wicked Demon just smirked and chuckled at him, like he was entertained by whatever his prey tried to do. If this was better than just getting smashed back into the wall and passing out as a result of his actions, he couldn’t decide.

Or well, did not have any time to decide.

Without having any time to react and try to fix whatever was left of his collar, Aziraphale's exposed neck got to meet the Demon’s fangs, piercing right through his sensitive skin. “Nghk-!” The Angel clenched his teeth, hissing in pain, while his hands struggled to push him away. His watery eyes looked at the individual through hazy vision, but something  _ did _ catch his sight. The hair. Without much second thought, his hand travelled to the messy locks, before yanking them back, unaware of the fact that if the Demon is forcefully pulled away, he will only cause for the wound to rip from the fangs dug deep in it.

The Demon was enjoying sinking his teeth deep into the Angel, savouring the sweet copper taste of angelic blood on his tongue. And then suddenly he's being yanked backwards, his fangs tearing from the puncture wounds with a long hiss that ended in a growl. But the growl wasn't one of anger, it was steeped in something far deeper, dripping with sin. 

He liked that, he liked that more than he thought he would. And he was pressed close enough that his prey could probably feel a very slight twitch between them, of a certain part of him that liked that  _ very _ much. His eyes were hungry as they locked back on Aziraphale, licking the blood from his fangs, before his gaze wandered down at the messy wound on the Angels neck. He bend ever so slightly forwards, his long inhuman tongue lapping at the flow of blood with a satisfied hum. Surprisingly his tongue seemed to stop the worst of the blood flow, not healing, but stopping it from bleeding out.

Aziraphale yelped as he felt his skin break, the now larger wound letting the Angel’s blood to drip out in heavy amounts. He squeezed his eyes shut, the tears finally rolling down his cheeks and down to his chin, while he was doing his best to not let out any other noise and bit his lip harshly. 

Then he felt a part of the demon’s body pressed against him twitch, making the silver eyes of the Principality open in shock and stare at the Demon in disgust. And the lust that was embedded in the low growl only proved Aziraphale that what he felt wasn’t just an unfortunate imagination. 

“You sicken me.” Aziraphale hissed as the tongue licked the trickling blood off his pale neck, his hands still tangled in that messy mane of hair, threatening to pull back at any second. Especially as the Angel seemed to begin to snap. 

“For the love of God, stop!” A roar escaped out of his mouth, finally freed from being locked by the clenched teeth, while his hands used the hair pulling as a mechanism from pulling the Demon away. The wings that were tucked away in fear were back now, seeking revenge by threatening the Demon. But this could be his chance to flee. Perhaps he can be quicker this time and...

Now that the creature wasn't pressing so hard against him, the blond sent a kick aimlessly, hoping to hit the stomach or below. And then he made a run for it.  _ He needed to get away. As soon as possible. He did his job by saving the lady - he should've been gone from here by now. _

There was another dark, amused chuckle. "The love of God has no place here little principality." This was sin, and darkness, the Demon having a need to pin and devour the Angel underneath him. He could kill him, or try to force him into falling, but that wasn't what he desired. Everything was heightened, the sins, the need, so new to his desires that he was never permitted to release before.... before. His eyes flickered again, like he was conflicted over something.

His slight lapse was enough for the Angel to kick out and get an advantage, enough to break away from him before he realised what was going on. He watched for a second, before moving inhumanly fast, his excitement growing as he had to hunt and pursue his prey. He caught up to the Angel, grabbing his pure white wings and used them to painfully throw him to the ground. He immediately followed him down with his whole body, straddling his legs and using both hands to pin Aziraphale's wrists to the hard, dirty floor.

His eyes were even more hungry, lit with a new level of desire. He wasn't out of breath, but his breathing was heavier, and he just drank in the sight below him, blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Just as the divine creature was about to use his wings to fly up into the air, they were grabbed by the familiar claws that did not want to let go of him anytime soon. The Demon just kept chasing and chasing him, starving to get another taste of the Angel. With a great force, the wings were jerked down to the ground, causing the body to follow too and smash back down into the cobblestone layered road. 

An elongated groan rumbled at the bottom of the pained throat, the uneven pavement digging into his back and making it ache. Aziraphale peered his eyes open, but jumped out of his skin the moment he felt the presence of Evil right on top of him, grabbing both wrists to pin them up above his head. The Angel rolled his head to the side with a groan mixed into a hiss, feeling his arms tense up while the tiny rocks underneath him cut his pressed skin.

The Demon purred, appreciating the groan of pain, and the way the Angel was pinned beneath him, scared and helpless. Such a delicious sight. His hips rolled on instinct, letting out his own contented groan. Oh yes, he could do a lot with such a vulnerable body beneath him, willing or not, but there was no fun in just taking it without a little game.

"Such a pity you insist on fighting me." Two jet black wings emerged from the demon's back, not leathery or burnt, but perfectly preserved angelic wings, corrupted and each feather a deep black hue that blended into the night sky above. Both ebony wings wrapped around the two of them, like a bird of prey protecting its catch and cocooning them in shadow. "I could take your pain, and give you so much pleasure, yet you keep resisting."


	4. A Demon in the Streets - part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where you need to heed the tags. Also im going to try to update this fic once a week, so hopefully we finally have an upload schedule!

The Demons grip changed, taking both wrists in one clawed hand, so he could trail the other down the length of Aziraphale's body, from his cheek, down his neck and pressing lightly against the bloody wound, then down his chest, his rounded middle, and then finally down to trail over the front of his trousers. He was feeling for if his pure little Angle had made an effort. Angels didn't need those particular parts, but they could choose to have them, there was any number of reasons to do this, especially when trying trying to fit in with humanity.

Whatever light that was visible in this cursed night, was blocked out by what seemed to be black, swan-like wings. Similar to his, but as dark as charcoal. Aziraphale gulped, watching the faint glow of the Demon’s eyes as he loomed over him. He dared not to speak, knowing that it will not lead him anywhere anyways. This was his doom.

But that did not refrain him from gasping out as his hands were now held by one hand, the grip firmer than before, while the figure’s free hand explored the body underneath him. The Angel desperately wanted to squirm around and twist at the touch of the claws, his stomach tucking in as the edge of the nails pressed against his clothes and brushed his skin. However, to no surprise, it did not stop. Soon, the Demon's hands were hovering over his trousers, making Aziraphale regret all of his decisions for creating an effort in order to fit in with the rest of the humans. 

“Please stop...” The voice was now weak, weaker than before when it was filled with rage and fury. His hips were now trying to twist out of the lingering touch, though the body that pinned him down made the situation much more difficult.

"So, the naughty little angel  _ has _ made an effort. But I bet you've never used it." The Demon purred, his hand moving more instantly now, feeling out the shape of the effort under his hand, his hand more curious exploration than anything. "Such a waste. A part made for pleasure being completely ignored for the sake of virtue." He tutted, as if Aziraphale was foolish for not touching himself at all, or engaging in more carnal acts. 

"But that does mean I'm the first to touch you like this. Fitting, since you are now  _ mine _ ." His voice a low possessive growl, looking down at the deep mark already bruising the Angel's neck with his claim. Hips hips slowly rolled forwards, just enough for Aziraphale to feel that his own effort was showing an interest.

His purr turned soft in his desire. "I could be gentle, make you enjoy it~ show you the pleasure these corporations are capable of." The voice of temptation, soft and inviting, promising so much if you would give in, he leaned in to lick up the side of Aziraphale's neck again, this time leaving a softer kiss against the bite mark, the slight trickle of blood still escaping the wound healing just slightly more.

The Angel whined out at the pressure of the other's hand against his groin, feeling up the shape of his effort through the trousers. He felt some sort of sensation at the touch of it, at someone feeling it for the first time, but he knew it was wrong. Especially when it's a Demon doing it. 

Aziraphale's hands bent awkwardly as they struggled to escape the grasp, desperately needing to cover up his own mouth to prevent and muffle any other noises that would be forced out. Though the Demon held him down good, and the roll of the hips making him whimper in fear of what's going to happen to him. He was already marked-- cursed by him... how will he explain this to Heaven?! 

"You can not tempt me, foul Demon." The divine being shivered as his wound was licked and kissed softly, though still deciding to resist the other's evil ways of trying to persuade him into this. No matter how gentle he was acting now.

"This would be so much sweeter for you if you accepted it." His voice stayed a soft purr, almost sympathetic, his mouth still lying sweet kisses across the other's neck, but his eyes didn't change. He was looking down with hunger and determination. 

He was laying it on thick, acting all gentle and caring. His natural demonic instincts kicking in to tempt, adapting to what he thought would make it easier to get his adversary to give in.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, probably easy to feel and notice the lump running down his throat, as the Demon was so pressed up against it, showering it in affection and kisses. His eyes shut while the Angel turned his head the other way and sharply inhaled the air his poor heart needed more of to deal with this situation. If it wasn't for the ribcage, his heart would be thumping harshly against his skin, visible to the naked eye. 

The pinned hands struggled once more, hoping that the other's claws will release any time soon. "You... can not. Tempt. Me. I will not listen." The Principality hissed out, eyebrows furrowing as those silver eyes peeked out and stared down at the Demon up in his face.

"No, I doubt you would give in to temptation." The Demon sighed, as if he was dealing with a difficult child who acted out without realising that they didn't know best. "You're too good, too virtuous. All that resistance, because you think it will please  _ Her _ ." Speaking of God, like the name had a bitter taste on his tongue. "Never letting yourself just enjoy the simple pleasures She put onto this earth." 

His hand moved, choosing instead to pet the soft feathers of Aziraphale's wings, the sign of his purity, as white as freshly fallen snow, laying out beneath them, just barely being grazed by his own dark feathers. "Such beautiful contrast my dear. Is it any wonder you are so desired." 

His hips began to slowly roll in a consistent rhythm, rubbing their clothed efforts against each other with a long satisfied groan "But you belong to  _ me _ now, and no one else may touch you this way. Not that pitiful archangel, and not your other Angelic friend."

Aziraphale's breath hitched as the attention moved to his wings, the wingtips twitching in delight at the soft pets the feathers were receiving. In embarrassment, the Angel contracted his wings back and let them fold, resisting the Demonic touch.

But there was something he  _ couldn't _ deal with and try to pull away from, the Demon's reach. The constant friction of their groins, only caused for his own effort to grow more sensitive, but the figure pinning him down didn't seem to stop from the pleasure. Overwhelmed, the Angel erupted a moan, which only quieted down into whines and gasps, the now flushing face turning away from the face that haunted him. He hated this. His hands constantly tried to escape, but pinning something down was easier than struggling out of it.

And then... the mention of his two close companions on Earth. Raziel and Crowley. The Principality's lips quivered at the reminder that they weren't here to save him. But Crowley was alive! Where in Heaven was he?  _ Oh Lord, did Heaven already take him? _ "C-Crowley..." Aziraphale whispered shakingly, before letting another loud whine force itself out from the back of his throat, unexpecting a harsher roll of their hips.

"Ah.ah, none of that, You. Your wings are sensitive~" His hand took a surprisingly gentle hold on where one had folded up, trying to hide away from his touch. "I could just as easily cause pain as pleasure. Pluck out feathers, one by one, tug on them until you are screaming." His voice was still a purr, but the threat was clear. He wanted to touch, and if he wasn't allowed to willingly, then he would surely take what he wanted.

The Demon's head snapped to Aziraphale's face when the Angel let out a loud and obviously not painful moan, his eyes lightening up like he'd just received a perfect gift. "There we are~" His hips moved more insistently, grinding down against the other now he could feel and hear that it was having a positive effect, he was getting what he wanted. A gentler hand seemed it be doing the trick, he was practically glowing from getting what he wanted. "Your mouth says no, angel. But your body says yes."

He was enjoying himself, reptilian eyes sliding half shut, his own body reacting to both the pleasured sounds of his Angel, and the friction against him. His own moans mixed with Aziraphale's, along with happy purrs and lustful growls. He could take this further, force the Angel into more intense pleasure, but he couldn't risk losing focus and letting his little pet escape.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the other's name whimpered out. "No! You do not say his name when I am the one giving you pleasure." His voice growled with clear jealousy. But his hips stopped for a moment, his eyes flickering once again, as something briefly clouded over his face, before he was snarling back at the Angel. " _ Stupid _ principality. He will not come to your aid." There was a smirk in his voice, like he was somehow completely confident in that statement. Like he knew something Aziraphale didn't, about how Crowley couldn't possibly come to his rescue.

The wings, fearing the long, delicate feathers being ripped out, cowered out of the hiding spot subconsciously, but at the realisation Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows and pulled his wings away, folding them once more. He would rather take in the pain that submit to the Demon.

With a blush on his cheeks, either from the returning fury or embarrassment of the other emitting lewd sounds, the Angel arched his back - adrenaline and shivers rushing down his body at the grinding. 

He hated this, even when his body was reacting somewhat positively to the touches, desperate for more. He's never been touched like this before by anybody, so of course all of this is overwhelming. But Aziraphale's mind didn't enjoy this in any way. 

"I know my human body more than you'll ever know." He snapped out, though his voice not sounding as threatening as it kept getting interrupted by gasps. "How-- How are you so sure-? You know nothing!"

The Demon smirked, seeing those wings slowly unfurl, only to frown as they hide themselves away again. He gave a growl of annoyance and yanked one out burying his hand in the feathers before it could snap back into place. He only had one hand free, needing to keep a tight grip on the struggling Angel's wrists.

However, he was distracted from the wings by his angel arching up so beautifully. He kept protesting, but he was clearly liking the situation, his body practically begging to be shown pleasures denied him for so long. "And how well is that? Have you touched yourself? Entertained yourself with little fantasies. Maybe you had someone you wanted like this, but never said." There's an accusation in his voice at this, jealousy, or amusement. "Silly little angels, dancing around and denying themselves instead of  _ taking _ what they need."

"Oh, I know  _ Crowley _ very well indeed. That Coward would never do anything like this. I was there you know. When he was cleaning the blood. You left him all alone and I was there, watching. I could have taken him again right there and then, and you would have never known." 

He gives up on petting the wings, as nice as that was for both of them, it wasn't worth the effort to fight, especially one handed. Instead the hand starts exploring the angels body over his clothes, letting his hand pet, and touch every inch of him he could.

Aziraphale swallowed down the rising fear of the feathers in the figure's claws to be ripped out any second now, awaiting the pain that was yet to come. But it did not for some reason. Instead, the claws began to stroke them subconsciously, easing the tensed up wings. 

He wasn't interested in what the Demon was murmuring about, except the part about Crowley. The dear Angel that he swore to protect, even though he shouldn't. Though as the Demon spoke out about him, he couldn't help but latch on to the part where he called him a coward. "Never do anything like this? I hope not." He spoke out, raising his head up a bit to snarl at the Demon, "He's an Angel."

"You couldn't have been there. I didn't feel your presence-- Ah-!" With another interrupting gasp, Aziraphale turned his head away and bit his lip, his mind screaming at his own body that did not resist the touch as much as the Angel truly did. "D-Damn you." He hissed.

"Oh but I was. You left the coward all on his own, and I watched him. He wasn't in his own mind, he wouldn't have even noticed." His voice a teasing purr, knowing fully why Aziraphale hadn't felt his presence. He was sure Crowley had, Crowley didn't understand, but he knew that the evil wasn't far behind.

Aziraphale's little gasp, and him turning away, so shy, so sweet, only made the Demon more hungry for the pleasured sounds. "I'm already dammed." He chuckled, his hips moving slowly and he shuffled a little further down the Angel's form, enough that when he let his hand come back to the other's groin again, he was able to start work on getting them undone, not an easy thing one handed. 

"I'm going to make you feel so much pleasure. You're clearly enjoying this, no matter how much you protest." The trousers were tight, tented with the obvious arousal, proof in the Demon's eyes that the Angel wanted this, enjoyed his touch.

The Principality hissed under his breath at the feeling of the claws fiddling around with the front of his trousers, trying to get it open. He would've tried kicking the Demon with his knee if he was still on his hips or closer, but now his legs were fully pinned down, unable to move upwards and bend. So all he did was whimper, whimper in fear and the loss of a great opportunity.

"My mind knows better not to enjoy the work of a Demon." Aziraphale grumbled, trying to wiggle out his legs from underneath the body on top of him, now that his hips were more or less free.

"And yet your body is willing." The Demon purred, clearly not caring for Aziraphale's verbal protests when he can see his body reacting. He was getting impatient with the fastenings, but resisted simply ripping them off, his reptilian pupils dilated and hungry, unwrapping the Angle's crotch like a present. "Perhaps you like this. You can't seek this pleasure yourself because of your virtue. But being forced by a Demon is hardly a sin."

The demonic hand finds its way past the fabric, to grip the hard flesh underneath, his touch still gentle as he starts stroking the length, determined to draw out pleasure from the other, willing or not.

With a furrowed brow and gritted teeth, the Angel lifted his head up to stare at the face that drooled over the sight of him. "I do not seek any pleasur-- hh- aagh-..." A low groan that rumbled at the back of his throat seeked it's way out of the panting mouth, body shivering in satisfaction of the gentle touch. 

The Demon's teasing touches only made Aziraphale furious, as the human body wasn't always easy to control, especially when given pleasure. His hips bucked up a little, winding up at the contact of his length and the claws that reminded him that this was a  _ Demon _ touching him.

"M-mmh- stop... p-please," The silver eyes figure pleaded with a whine, fingers curling at each stroke, wanting to escape free from the hand that held it by the wrists.

"Pity. These bodies are made for it. She wouldn't make it feel so good if it was wrong." His voice silky smooth, speaking of God in a time such as this, claiming that it was by design, because how could it not be. Pleasure was part of the human form. Sins were meant to feel good, or no one would succumb.

He licked his lips when the Angel bucked his hips, desperate for more of the pleasure only he could give. His own need almost forgotten, his own hips rolled of their own accord, too worked up to stay still as his hand moved faster, in gentle but firm strokes.

"I'll stop once you've experienced the true pleasure of this act. It will be quicker if you stop fighting." That was almost merciful, and he felt a little confused why he was trying to reassure the other. He was a Demon, he shouldn't care if an Angel enjoyed this, but it was oh so delicious to see that angelic body squirming beneath him in pleasure instead of pain. 

"Do n-not... mmh... do not associate s-sin with God." The Principality grinded his teeth against each other, infuriated by the Demon trying to convince him with false acclaims of Her Almighty. He rolled his head back against the rocky surface he laid on, chest raising and lowering as his heavy breathing quickened, sometimes even interrupted by other gasps of air or silent groans.

Then the strokes of the firm hand paced up, causing another steady, almost unnoticeable rock of his hips. Though it was nothing compared to the Demon's continuous movements, continuous grinding against his pinned legs. 

With no doubt, this was wrong. Perhaps this was some sort of punishment, or karma for not informing Heaven of the latest, major event on the Archangel Raziel, hence why Heaven isn't here to help anymore. And Crowley isn't either. No one was coming to save him, both from the situation and the body he was starting to lose control over.

Crowley chuckled at the Angel's outrage. "The lord made these bodies for pleasure." He claimed, his movements quick and sure. He was acting on instincts, not thinking just acting. And right now all his demonic instincts were geared towards pleasure, and sins of the flesh.

It was maddening in the best way for him, to have his own need trapped in these damned clothes, but unable to touch himself because his hands were both busy. He didn't dare even loosen his grip on the other's wrist, and if he so much as slowed his hand, the momentary lack of pleasure could undo so much of his careful work in winding the other up so much.

"I'm s-sure you've gotten something misunderstood." Aziraphale hissed out, his stutter lessening whenever his voice a little quieter. He kept glaring at those snake eyes that focused on his prey underneath, before they met with his silver eyes, staring at him expectedly. Oh how those eyes reminded him of a serpent. Especially of one that appeared in the passages of the Garden of Eden. With a breathless chuckle, the Principality grinned weakly, "P-Perhaps the forbidden fruit did not provide you, Demon, with the sufficient knowledge." 

But the bastard's grin was soon wiped off his face, as his teeth and lips worked hard on muffling any moans that dared to rise up his throat and escape. They were only heard as hums, but Aziraphale's expressions continued to be stubborn and refused to show any pleasure towards the Demon.

"Or perhaps I'm. Mmm. More well Informed." The Demon's own speech was starting to falter now, pleasure radiating from him in the form of lust, his movement quickened, both his hips and hand, more insistant in his excitement. For creatures who had never known this pleasure, they were lasting well, which would only make the payoff even sweeter in his twisted mind. 

How delicious the Angel already looked, clearly caught up in his own pleasure, but refusing to show it. So stubborn and strong. He wondered if he could break him in time, or even if he'd want to. The fight was thrilling, a challenge to be met in turn.

Speaking-- Bickering back to the Demon kept the Angel's mind somewhat sober, but now that the Demon himself was starting to get affected by it too, Aziraphale couldn't ignore this situation as easily. "Doubt it." Another short hiss was heard from the Angel, desperately trying to keep his attention on something else by continuing the bitter conversation with his enemy.

_ Think harder, Aziraphale. _ His thoughts kept reminding him, but the Angel was starting to numb into the touch of the figure above him, and focus more on the unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. If his arms were free, he would be biting down into his skin, imprisoning the whines that kept coming. But he couldn't do so anymore. The overwhelming pleasure was getting to him, and his twitching member couldn't agree more.

"Yessssss that'ssss it. Let yoursssself go." The slight hiss form earlier was much more pronounced now, the Demon letting himself be overcome with his own pleasure and excitement, feeling how undone the Angel below him was becoming. The length in his hand was practically throbbing for more, and the Demon only removed his hand for a second, to lick it before bringing the now warm and damp hand back to his quickened pace, aiding in the slick slide and removing some of the friction. He was determined to tip the other over the edge, see that sweet angelic face twist is pure pleasure, wanted or not.

It was intoxicating to him, someone so pure giving in to such an act, enjoying having pleasure put upon him, with no consequences. Heaven could not forsake someone for something they had no control over. If anything, this was a mercy, giving Aziraphale something he couldn't get form anywhere else.

With a heated face from the Demon encouraging for the Angel to let his noises out, Aziraphale moved his elbows above his face and locked them against each other, blocking out the embarrassed look on his face. No Demon deserves to see him, a Principality, in such a state. It was wrong, and well... embarrassing.

At the loss of the pressure on his lower body, he peeked his head out to catch a glimpse of the silhouette, overshadowed by his own wings of darkness, coat his palm and fingers in saliva, before bringing them down to Aziraphale's length once more. 

_ Oh he's going to go insane. _

"Isss my little Angel going sssshy on me now?" His voice was teasing, clearly enjoying the little show Aziraphale was putting on, trying to hide his face. That was easily rectified though, by pulling the Angles wrists higher, he could give him less slack to move them at all and hide his beautiful face. But he doesn't do this, not yet. 

Maybe if the Angel is allowed this little bit of freedom to hide his face, he'll be more compliant, and let out more of those lovely noises. The demon didn't need to see the pleasure, not until the finish. He was content with being able to hear and feel how much the body below him was begging for release.

"I do not belong to you." The sentence would be a bit more insulting or threatening if the Angel didn't murmur it out quietly in between gasps of air. His hips couldn't help but steadily move with the hand that pumped it up continuously - it's obvious goal to overdrive the poor Angel, make him more submissive to the Demon's touches and needs.

Nevertheless, whatever the Demon was doing, caused Aziraphale to feel like he was going to erupt. Something was building up in his body, whether it was the adrenaline rush, or something completely new, and he wasn't sure how long he could hold it for. All he wanted to do was question, what in the world he was doing, but the Angel couldn't even form any words anymore.

"After tonight. You will never belong to anyone elssssse." The Demon purred, not put out at all by the Angel's insistence that he wasn't owned. The Demon had decided that this Angel was his, and he did not intend to let him go now he had had a taste of how divine this creature could be.

He could sense the Angel getting close, and his whole body practically shook with anticipation, his own needs obvious but secondary in his excitement to bring the Angel over the edge. See and hear the glorious being stripped down to base desires and uncontrolled pleasure in his passion. His long inhuman tongue slipped between his lips, before licking them and pulling it back. His motions were getting less controlled, more insistent, and he groaned with renewed need.

Aziraphale was going wild. If his hands weren't held down firmly to the ground, he would be clawing at anything he could reach: clothes, skin, hair, anything he could reach. He couldn't manipulate his human body otherwise - the mind that was once controlling it going numb at the sensational feelings and lack of focusing on other things.

"Agh..." The Angel breathed heavily, his eyes shutting close as he felt the overwhelming feeling rise up to his member, pressured to hurry by the hand of the Demon. 

"Oh-Oh, L-Lord~ agh!" The moan that was long awaited ripped out of his mouth, followed by heavy breathing and then a hold of breath. With a heavy shiver running down his heated body, his hips jerked upwards and tensed up, releasing whatever was causing butterflies in his stomach to squirt onto himself - staining his clothes and parts of his skin. 

The legs that were held down shivered in delight of the release, before his whole body relaxed, and his arms fell back to his sides. It was as if all of his energy ran out just from  _ that _ . How do those sinful humans do it so often..?

The demon pulled Aziraphale's wrists upward, forcing his arms away from his face so he could see and watch the uninhibited pleasure wash over the Angel. And that little slip, the little blasphemous use of the Lord's name when he was so caught up in his passion, it makes the Demon practically vibrate form the pure sin of it all.

His breathing laboured, and drinking in the sight beneath him, was almost too much. His hand released from it's hold on the angelic wrists, briefly wondering if he'd left beautiful bruises against his pale skin under his clothes, to push down on his chest instead, holding him down but letting his weakened body relax from the tension.

His other hand stroked Aziraphale through it for a few more moments drawing out the pleasure before he couldn't take it anymore. His claws ripped through his own trousers, not caring enough to undo them to get to his own straining erection. His hand was slick with not only saliva, but his companions spend, and felt perfectly wicked as he brought himself to completion. It didn't take long, already so wound up and aroused, before he was spilling over the Angel. Their fluids mixing and settling over Aziraphale's clothes, his own spend still dripping onto the Angels spend cock as he continued to pleasure himself until he was done.

The so called Angel panted out the hot air that have filled his lungs, his face as hot as a flame while he allowed for his body to cool down. He felt so lewd, the front of his trousers open and revealing his effort, an effort to try to be as close to mankind as possible, but this is where it got him now. 

The filth stained his clothes: shirt and vest, while the corner of his eye watched the Demon go mad and rip the fabric of his trousers and pants in order to reveal his own length. Aziraphale flinched, his arms lazily going over his head to block any of the staining liquid from landing on his face. All that was heard was the soft pants of the Principality, deafened by the wicked grunts and noises growling out of the Demon's throat.

The Demon purred in satisfaction, looking down over his handiwork, the utterly debauched Angel beneath him, too ashamed and weak with pleasure to keep up his fight, not even an uttered word spilling from his mouth as he covers his face again.

He stood, tucking himself back into what remained of his trousers, and cast another long look over his conquest. He could feel the tug at the back of his mind, the struggle of something inside him trying to claw back control. Did the sight of this Angel like this really hold so much power? He found no reason to remain here much longer, he'd gotten what he wanted for now, and he didn't want to break his new toy so quickly. 

"We shall meet again, my little Angel." His eyes snapped to the mark on the others neck, already bruising a dark purple, almost black where his fangs had punctured the skin. "Remember,  _ Aziraphale _ . That you are now mine." His silky black wings shivered in delight, tucking against his back as he took a few steps backwards, not wanting to tear his eyes away just yet, before turning and retreating back into the street. A black shadow disappearing in the night, and leaving the Angelic being soiled, on the dirty payment of a London back alley.

Aziraphale turned his head to the side, listening to the sound of heels click-clacking against the pavement fade away into the mist that was steadily moving away. His hand slowly moved down to pull on his trousers, and zip them back up. He was so exhausted, he did not understand why. Well, because of... what just happened, but... he did not understand why that certain body part can deprive one's energy so bad that they might fall into deep slumber. 

The Angel shivered, hands moving to his sides in order to help himself push up into a sitting position. With an audible sigh, his gaze lowered to himself: down at his clothes specifically. Just as he thought. He was an absolute mess. Why, for Heaven's sake, did the  _ Principality _ allow the Demon to do such a thing? Why did he succumb to his sinful actions? 

Oh Lord... he was going to fall for this isn't he?

Silently, the Demon's voice echoed in his head:  _ "Remember, Aziraphale. That you are now mine." _ No, no! He doesn't own him! Heaven would understand, right?

The ruffled wings spread out and wrapped around his own figure, hiding him away from the rest of the World. 

Right...?

It did not take long before the Angel teleported back to the house, where he immediately collapsed onto his unused bed and stared at the wall of emptiness


	5. Aftermath - Part 1

When Crowley woke, there was an odd feeling. His body felt lighter, as if he'd gone to a confession, or been absolved of any sins. And he felt relief, his fear of falling for what happened to Raziel being calmed. Only for his heart to ache at the memory of what had happened. The poor archangel's fate, he hadn't deserved that, he was a good person who only wanted to help his fellow angels.

With a heavy heart the pulls himself to sit up, grief rushing to fill the lightness he was feeling. How long was he asleep for? Aziraphale must be worried, and lonely. His fellow dealt with his troubles alone, but in his own grief, he must be feeling terribly lonely.

Crowley didn't notice his wings were manifested until he stood from the bed. He was sure he'd sent them away before sleep had taken him, but he ran his fingers thoughtfully through the pure white feathers, feeling the comfort of divine grace still running through them. He made his way to the door, intending to head down to Aziraphale's study where he assumed the other would be, but paused when he instead felt a presence in Aziraphale's little used bedroom.

He knocked gently on the door. "Aziraphale?" He called softly, wondering if the other had done as he did, and simply tried to sleep away his pain.

The only thing that had moved over the past hours was Aziraphale's swan-like wings, covering the Angel's body in shame of what happened last night... and during midnight. Whenever it happened. He didn't really get to catch the time before leaving, but he knew for sure that it was late, when it happened. When he met that Demon...

A shiver possessed his weak body, before jumping to a sitting position on the bed and letting out a weak, "C-Come in." His voice was croaky, as only a few hours ago he was hissing at the silhouette that reeked of evil, spitting words of fury at him.

Though the Angel did not even realise who may be at the door. Perhaps it's Crowley, who for some reason was not in his own bedroom when he went over to check up on him, or it could be that Demon. But how on Earth did he find him so easily?

Crowley frowned at the stuttered voice, his aching heart thinking of how he left his fellow angel to deal with grief alone. It was selfish, but Crowley had felt too broken not to fall into a slumber.

He opened the door, and froze at the sight of the white wings half shielding his friend's form, more surprised to see them than he had his own wings upon waking. Aziraphale didn't draw out his wings often, even less than Crowley, who occasionally felt more comfortable in a slightly less than human form. "I'm sorry. I only just woke. I wanted to check that you were okay."

At the sight of Crowley stepping into the room, Aziraphale felt half of his worries evaporate into the air, wings lowering and not standing up in a threatening pose. He blinked, smiling weakly at his good old companion. Then paused. Just awoke? Where was he sleeping exactly then? 

"Right... okay. Well, I'm glad you're okay." The Principality murmured, hand grabbing onto his own collar in order to fix it and look more presentable, before realising that the collar was ripped. 

No... It wasn't just a horrible nightmare then? His hands quickly rushed over to feel the rest of his shirt and vest, only for his fingers to glide through the dried stains on the fabric.  _ Oh, good Lord! _ His baggy eyes widened in surprise, before his wings subconsciously wrapping around his figure once more.  _ He didn't even manage to change clothes! _ But he couldn't do it right in front of Crowley. He can sense miracles just like him.

The hand reaching for his collar drew Crowley's attention to the other's neck, and he felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. His clothes were torn, had he been attacked? But more importantly, there was a dark red and purple colour tainting his pale skin before being hidden away with a wing. He didn't think twice, just rushed to the bed, kneeling before Aziraphale, and gently put his hand on the wing covering that side of his body, no pressure, just a silent question for it to be lowered.

"Aziraphale. Something happened. You're hurt." Short and to the point, his voice worried and filled with sympathy, wanting to help, to heal as was his function. But he also needed to see the damage, needing permission from his friend to let him ease his physical pain. Though he suspected, from the way Aziraphale was hiding away, the worst pains were not only skin deep. "Please. Let me help you."

Aziraphale held his breath as the other Angel rushed over to his side and kneeled besides him, hand reaching for his wing. His eyebrows furrowed, the face that always managed to present dear Crowley with a smile, this time held a frown. He was upset with himself and that he didn't manage to take care of everything before Crowley awoke, because no one wanted to see or know what he knew. The damned Principality allowed for a Demon... no-  _ The _ Demon that brutally murdered Raziel- to pleasure him and fulfill his sinful needs. 

"It's nothing to let your mind worry about. Just had to protect this lady out in the night."

"You don't have to tell what happened, if you feel uncomfortable." There was clearly more to that story than him simply protecting a woman's virtue, or he wouldn't be able to feel the unease in the other's frown, and how he tried to shield himself with his wings. 

"But please. Let me heal that wound." His voice was soft, worried for his friend and wanting to take at least the pain he could. His hand very lightly stroked the feathers under his hand, hoping to help soothe his companion.

"I only briefly saw it, Aziraphale, but it looked nasty." It looked worse than he'd expected to ever see on an Angel. They were hardly defenseless, even without angelic weapons, and for it to bruise that badly. How could a human have done such damage without Aziraphale stopping him?

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows and looked down to the ground, hand slowly moving down his collar, but just so it would be free to miracle the stains away - as those were much more horrible than any kind of rips that may be on his clothes.

Slowly, his wings lowered, easing into the gentle touch and stroke of the slightly ruffled feathers. It was reminding him more of last night, but Crowley's touch was much more gentle, much more caring. 

He was glad that he wasn't there to see it.

Crowley smiled softly when the wings started to lower, his hand moving through the wing to follow it be for pulling away. He sensed the miracle, but wasn't sure what Aziraphale did, nothing appeared to have changed, his clothes still torn and collar dirtier with stained and caked blood form the wound.

When he finally saw the wound he hissed through his teeth, it was worse that he thought. Very gently, and slow enough for Aziraphale to stop if he wanted to, he pulled the torn collar aside to see the extent of the damage. It was deep, but more than that, it was very distinctive. The impression of a bottom set of teeth bruised into the skin, but the damage looked more like fangs, even though it was so mutilated, like it was torn. "Heavens above." He breathed out, eyes wide at the sight. That was no human wound surely. 

Swallowing, he tried to brie his tongue, not wanting to ask the question that he was afraid to know the answer to. He gently brushed his fingers across the wound, clearing the dried blood and lessening some of the bruises to get a better look at the damage.

The Principality sat in silence, noticing that the Healer did not mutter out anything else except hiss out at the sight. But instead of pulling away at the curious soul that wanted to inspect the wound, Aziraphale turned his head to the side and pulled down the ripped cloth out of the way for Crowley. 

"Thank you." He muttered out simply, his voice turning more cold and distant the more he let the other do his own thing, while his mind continuously flashed back to the horrific night. He will never forget those snake eyes.... staring right into his soul, hungry for a piece of him.

Aziraphale shivered, wings spreading out into the space that there was in the room, before folding and tucking back in. It was clear he was acting strange, though the blond did not want to startle Crowley.

Crowley worked in silence, the bruises fading as he bit his lip. There was always some measure of discomfort taking the pain from others, using his healing abilities on a human was easy, but it took more to heal wounds on angels, and if this wound wasn't caused by a human...

With almost all the bruising gone, there was just the indentations, and the two painfully torn puncture wounds, the real damage. Someone definitely took a bite of his friend, and by the seems of it, also tried to rip at his throat. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the thing he didn't want to ask. "I need to know if.... was this wound caused by a mortal?" He didn't want to ask, and wanted even less to hear the answer, but it was unavoidable. 

"You can say yes or no. I won't pry." He promised, but he would know. He already thought he knew, those marks were almost familar in the most sickening way.

"No." The Angel replied with a murmur, his eyes focused on the door of his room rather than his friend, as if he was waiting for something to creep in and go after them. The window wasn't open, was it? His head turned back, examining the said window before sighing in relief. No. Good. 

"I thought he wasn't, but he wasn't scared of me... an Angel. He knew what I was, and I managed to learn what he was later on."

Aziraphale's hand ran through the bite mark that, in the most sickening way, decorated his neck. Even if it was mostly healed, it still could be felt, and cause a heavy shiver to run down his back.

"Its going to scar." Crowley's voice was quiet, regretful, his skin going more pale as he gets confirmation for what he suspected. "Even I can't completely erase a Demonic wound. But I can heal it so there's no pain." He promised, watching Aziraphale's fingers graze along the still fresh and angry looking mark, it must still hurt, but his fellow Angel seemed numb to it.

He saw the way he checked the window and door, obviously still shaken and scared of being discovered here in his own home. "We can place more wards around this house, protect it, so that other forces can't find us here." He tried to reassure his friend, feeling a little paranoid himself now. 

He was sure it must have been the demon who took Raziel at the ritual, but how had that beast found Aziraphale? And why target him when Crowley was the one who escaped and was vulnerable while asleep. And it was a demon, a demon with enough power to destroy an archangel. He could have lost his best friend, his only constant and confidant, and he wasn't there to help.

He turned his attention back to the wounds, using it to focus on something other than his fears. It was deep, and demonic, his hands may not be enough. "Aziraphale... may I?" He touched his lips, indicating what he meant. An angel's kiss was more powerful, and he needed something more for a demonic wound. But he understood if that was too much for his friend right now. "If not, then I might still be able to lessen the pain. But I do not know if I can heal the damage another way."

Aziraphale considered the offer of protecting the house from any kind of evil, but it all depended on what kind of ritual it may be. Because the one that Raziel and Crowley were part of over a week ago, did not go as planned - making things worse than they needed to be. "Perhaps..." He murmured, hand still hovering over the bite mark that seemed to have stopped stinging in pain as much as it used to.

However, his attention was caught by the other Angel, who was more interested in dealing with the wound rather than discussing why the Principality looked so dull. But perhaps it was for the better. Aziraphale wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it anyways, or if the Demon would somehow overhear it and hunt him down, just for not keeping his mouth shut. 

He turned his head back to Crowley, confused why he pressed his fingers against his lips. What does he... Oh. Right. It took him a moment, but the Angel still did not manage to reply. He was frozen, unsure what to say - mind focusing on the nightmarish flashbacks of the devilish figure licking Aziraphale's blood off his lips, rather than whatever was happening at this very moment.

_ Oh Lord... why didn't he just kill him there and then?! _ With a scrunched face trying to stop the forming tears from falling, the Principality moved further down onto his king size bed and allowed his massive wings to cover his figure.  _ At least he wouldn't have to go through this endless pain, if that were the case. _

Crowley was scared to discuss it further, both knowing they should talk about it, but neither wanting to pick at scars that were still fresh in their minds. Healing was Crowley's function, and it was easy to fall into the familiar feeling of wanting and needing to heal his friend's injury. He wanted to help, but he didn't know the situation enough to help with the mental scars, only the physical wounds.

When Aziraphale didn't reply to his question, he assumed he was right in his assumption that it was too much. An Angel's kiss was powerful, and should be comforting, but given the nature of his wounds, he understood not wanting anything near it, especially someone's mouth. He didn't take it personally. "That's why I asked. I wouldn't do anything without your permission, you know that right?" Even when he was helping the other, he always checked, always made sure something was alright before doing it, especially when it came to using their devine forces.

His friend was moving away, crowding himself towards the headboard and shielding himself away with his wings. Crowley's heart clenched, knowing that his offer might have triggered such a response. "I.. I'm sorry. Please I. I do not know what has happened, but I only wish to help." He did his best to extend his grace out towards his fellow Angel, trying to comfort him without touching, since he figured the other didn't want contact right now. "I should be able to take some of the pain with just my hand. But I fear the physical damage is not as bad as everything else. I'm here for you Aziraphale."

Crowley's voice was so soothing, and it felt real, unlike the Demon that confronted him during midnight. Oh, how he hoped that seeing his other dear friend wasn't just a dream that just waited until Aziraphale felt safe and comfortable in the environment, before completely ruining and clawing down everything from existence, to leave him wake up in cold sweat. Another tremble was visible, causing for the wings to tense up, but surprisingly lower down.

Now, Aziraphale's face was visible. It was filled with anxiety, terror, exhaustion. But he was alert. A part of his mind has made him realise something. Steadily, a hand that was first hidden by the wings reached out for Crowley's, before holding it lightly, just in case the other Angel gets too shocked and pulls away. "Please do not leave." He breathed out shakingly, the tremble of his body audible in his voice. 

The Demon knew about Crowley, and the Principality feared that perhaps the unfortunate Angel will fall into his claws again. But perhaps there won't be a chance to run away for the poor Healer. If Aziraphale, the weapon of Heaven, was forced into submission by the Demon... What would happen to Crowley?

When his friend's face was revealed, he felt his heart clench. Aziraphale was the stronger of the two, the one who always held himself together and could steel himself for any situation. And now he was breaking down, struggling with his own emotions in the light of a traumatic experience. He was lucky to be alive, and Crowley wished he could help in some small way. His own wings curled around him, very gently brushing against Aziraphale's shielding ones, making a little barrier he hoped helped the other feel safe.

"I promise. I will not go anywhere." He squeezed the hand offered to him, holding it just to have some contact, a little show of comfort that he knew wouldn't overwhelm or make the other uncomfortable. "I wish I had known. I should have sensed you were in danger..." The demon must have shielded them somehow, prevented what was happening from being detected.

As if knowing what Aziraphale was thinking, Crowley came to a similar line of thinking. "Perhaps I could request a weapon? Heaven would surely understand..." Aziraphale couldn't ask for a replacement, because heaven can never find out that he gave his sword away to humanity. And Crowley was a healer, his function was defense not offence, he had the ability to shield and protect, not attack. But if he could talk himself into a weapon, then he could give it to Aziraphale.

Leaving a visible trail behind like rain on a dusty glass pane, the tears began to roll down the Angel's puffy cheeks. Another hand tucked underneath their hands, and held Crowley's in his ever so firmly. This did not feel like a dream but... he just wanted to make sure. He just wanted something to hold rather than himself or the heavy weight crushing down on his shoulders.

"There was no way you could've helped me..." Aziraphale murmured, eyes lowering down to stare at his own hands that trembled while softly holding Crowley's. "It's what the Demon said. He somehow... knew. Knew that you wouldn't be able to." 

With an audible sigh, the blond shook his head, the messy locks of hair, oily from the lack of care and treatment for it, allowing some sweat that decided to linger to roll down his temples. "We cannot... We cannot go back to Heaven. They... They will need to see Raziel too. And then, they will question us." His breath hitched at the mention of the Archangel, tears beginning to flow in heavier amounts, then falling from the soft jawline when the glistening liquid couldn't hold anymore.

"He... he must have shielded you both somehow. Hid his presence..." But that disturbed Crowley more, that he hadn't hidden his evil at the ritual grounds, but had for when he attacked Aziraphale. His poor principality friend was innocent in the ritual, then there was no reason to single him out to attack him so. And did he allow him to live because of this? Knowing that it would hurt more for Aziraphale to live with this mental torment? 

"I know..." If heaven did not know what had happened with Raziel, then they couldn't return, not yet. Neither of them know if heaven would blame them, or more specifically, Crowley in particular. He'd like to think that it would land squarely on his own shoulders, but since they were both earthbound together, the blame would likely be shared. "That is an issue for another time, my dear."

Slowly, Crowley pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, gently dabbing at the other’s tears. "I do not know what he did to you. Nor do I want you to tell me when I can see that it is so painful. But I will always be here for you, Aziraphale." It hurt to see his fellow Angel so hurt, from wounds he couldn't heal. The principalitie’s hands were shaking, and he held them even firmer in his own. Their wings gently brushed against each other, both pure white, a reminder of their divinity, that they were beings of light and love, even with everything they had been through recently.

Aziraphale flinched a little at the soft dabs of the handkerchief on his face, the material absorbing the more noticeable streams of tears that stayed attached to the gently flushed skin. "Thank you..." His voice was quiet, almost as quiet as his breath that began to slowly ease down into a standard rate.

"He had... wings. With feathers. Just like ours... but they were nearly unnoticeable, as they were as dark as the night sky." The Angel murmured absentmindedly, still refusing to let go of Crowley's hand. It was so warm... as if it was... slowly healing something on his... hands? 

The silver eyes stared harder at his own hands - more specifically, his wrists - only to see the bruises that were still visible to the naked eye.

Almost immediately Aziraphale's hands snapped back to his body, before crossing his arms and tucking them in towards his sides in order to hide the marks. It was painful to pull away from such warmth of the other Angel, especially how it comforted him and eased his mind. But if Crowley saw them, he might start to catch on with the idea.

"I.. I apologise for that. Uhm..." His head turned away with worry, hands pressing harder against his own body, "Thank you for being here for me though."

Crowley relaxed a little, feeling the other’s panic start to subside just slightly under his hands. He didn't need to be thanked for this, he was just looking out for a very dear friend who needed his help right now.

"Wings like ours?" The healer pulled his own wings back slightly, worried that the contact might not be so welcome if it reminded him of that demon. From what he heard and understood, Demons wings are meant to be burnt as they fell from grace, changing or damaged beyond repair. For such a creature to have feathers still, even black as night, was very unsettling, not what should be allowed for such a beast from hell.

He wanted to help, and to heal, the instinct automatic with their hand connected, not consciously doing it. He could feel there was more to heal, but he wasn't thinking enough to know where to focus it, just promoting general healing into his friend until suddenly the hands were pulled away from him.

"I'm sorry. Do you not wish to be touched?" It hurt, to think that he himself might be adding to Aziraphale's pain, and his own wings folded slightly around himself at the thought. He wanted to help, but he was lost on how. Aziraphale was hurting, but he couldn't help sooth him if the other did not wish to be helped.

"No!" Aziraphale exclaimed suddenly, but sulked back into the comfort of his own pure white wings at his voice raising a little. "Sorry... I... I do not mind. I am just... not in the right mindset at the moment." And some parts of his body didn't feel or seem right either. The bruise on his neck was unavoidable, and it could be misunderstood as  _ just _ a bite... but if Crowley saw the bruises that also marked Aziraphale's wrists, he might start to piece things together. This Angel is wise. Wiser than the Principality, for sure, as he helped to create stars of the Universe. Turned them into pure perfection. 

"You've done nothing wrong... this is just me." The murmurs turned more and more silent, as the Angel's mind began to wonder once again. How disappointing would it be to hear that a Principality was defeated by a simple Demon, was even given pleasure by the Demon to which he submitted to quite easily. And because that wicked creature allowed him to live in the end, Aziraphale was left all alone to deal with his own thoughts individually. "You have done nothing to hurt me." He spoke out again, voice a little clearer, while a weak smile slowly painted his face.

Crowley flinched slightly at the sudden shout, more out of surprise than anything, already on edge from the whole situation. "And that is okay. You've obviously been through something terrible." He assured, knowing how it feels to not be in your right mind. That is why he'd chosen to sleep, to hopefully wake feeling more himself, and it seemed to have helped.

"It is not 'just you'. This is the work of a powerful Demon." Crowley wanted to get through to Aziraphale that he was fine, he was safe now and whatever happened, the demon was the one to blame. The kind hearted principality was still pure, still holy with heaven’s light. 

"You've been attacked, by a creature from Hell itself. I have felt it's darkness, I know how strong and powerful it must be. Aziraphale, you are here now, you can recover." That thing had enough power to destroy an archangel, a Principality wouldn't have stood a chance to defeat it, but Aziraphale had come out alive, even without his weapon.

"But I'm unable to help you. I can only heal your body, not your mind. All I can do is lend a friendly ear, and be here to watch over you. Shield you for as long as I am able." He felt a little comforted at his fellow Angel’s claims that he'd done nothing wrong. He very gently strokes Aziraphale's wings with the back of his hand, softly as to not startle him, but hoping he derives some peace from the comforting touch.

Aziraphale raised his head up once the other mentioned about lending an ear to listen to the vents that might spill out of the Principality's mouth, though he wasn't completely sure if he  _ could _ just tell Crowley everything. Part of him wanted to, while the other half pulled away at the thought. He was hesitant, unsure what to do. Someone will feel disappointed with themselves, or have dread and another visit of loneliness grab them by the throat and squeeze as hard as it could. Besides, being alone outside during midnight was what nearly killed the Principality.

So for quite a while, the two stayed silent, and Aziraphale steadily eased into the strokes of his wings. It felt nice. Comforting. Even if it was just petting with the back of the hand.

But that silence, while somewhat pleasing, did not last for long. "So..." Aziraphale pulled down the sleeves of his light-coloured shirt, before doing the same with the sleeves of his suit, just so the marks on his wrists were fully out of sight from the Healer in front of him. "How do you think I got attacked?"

When Aziraphale didn't pull back from the comforting touch, Crowley turned his hand, his touch still light, but now running fingers through the soft feathers, feeling more confident in this helping to sooth the principality. He moved slightly closer, just to be kneeling in a more comfortable position so he didn't have to stretch his arm so far, not wanting to get too close to invade the other’s personal space, still protected by his wings wrapped around him, even though they were a little more relaxed now.

His hand stilled a moment, caught off guard at being asked what he thought had happened. He didn't want to think too much, not wanting to jump to conclusions, or get it wrong. But his mind had conjured up an idea of what had happened, in a vague sense. He took a deep breath, hand resuming it's soothing petting. 

"You said you had to protect a woman... I think that creature was trying to, do something indecent to her, and you step in to stop him." His voice was quiet, careful, knowing how fragile this conversation could be if he was correct. "And then he turned his attention to you. Attacked you for daring to interrupt his demonic activity." His eyes trailed to the horrid mark on the other’s neck, the bruising all but gone thanks to his healing, but the wound still raw and untouched, having needed more energy which Aziraphale wasn't ready to let him give just yet. 

"He hurt you. Because he is a creature of evil, and you are an Angel of heaven. I'm just glad you're... here." He swallowed the rise of emotion in his throat. He could have lost Aziraphale, the one person he cared for above all others, because he wasn't there to protect him.

  
  


Nothing dared to force open Aziraphale's mouth and free itself from the mind that kept blanking out, even the itching feeling where he  _ had _ to let the other know the truth. And for the unsurprising part, Crowley was completely right. Though... did he figure out the sinful deeds too? Was he just being silent about it too? Aziraphale wanted to tell him. He wanted to vent, but the whole situation was just a bit too much for his poor heart.

Hence why there was the continuation of silence - neither of them knowing whether it was comforting anymore or not. All that the shorter Angel could do was nod, inform that the other was correct with his wording. 

It was as if his mind travelled back in time and suddenly caught upon the comment that the Healer was still sleeping. But where..."I-I thought you disappeared, Crowley... You were not present in your bedroom."

Crowley felt sick, knowing that the same Creature that got to Raziel had his precious friend within his grasp. Aziraphale was truly lucky to have been able to walk away from the creature, but he wouldn't voice that outloud, there was no upside to the state the Demon had left his friend in.

He could feel more physical pains from his friend, except the claiming mark on his neck that he couldn't heal when his friend’s mind was so sensitive. Nothing felt too painful or damaging. Little cuts, possibly along his back? As well as some bruising he couldn't place, possibly in multiple places. The Demon had clearly roughed the Angel up before leaving him, but he couldn't help feeling something more happened, he just didn't know what.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the questioning statement, surprised by the Principality's words. "I was sleeping in my room. I haven't woken since... since we cleaned the ritual ground." He blinked in confusion. Had he slept walked? Was Aziraphale mistaken in his trauma?

Aziraphale blinked repeatedly at the reply, confusion leaking out with each blink. "In your room..? You..." He paused, trying to recall the night hours ago, before shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn't remember any figure in their respective bedroom, and couldn't even sense the Angel anywhere nearby to him. 

"Are you sure?" The question arose, but even he was unsure with himself now. Did he lose his senses at the scream outside or did the trauma from earlier block out any simple memories? He didn't know. What did he know anymore anyways? Crowley gone from his bedroom. A Demon with feathered wings. Has he lost his mind?

Subconsciously, his fingers fiddled with the edges of his shirt, paranoia taking over his human body while the mind of the body was too focused on solving his own puzzles forming in his head.

"I awoke the same as I fell asleep... unless I slept walked. Or got up to use the bathroom half asleep." That had happened once still not sure if from boredom, or his sleep addled mind just forgot he wasn't human while half dreaming. But he had never slept walked. Even if he was sleepwalking, there wasn't anywhere he could have gone without the other Angel hearing him.

"Will you allow me to heal your body anymore tonight?" His voice was soft, soothing, his fingers still stroking through the soft feathers under his hand.

Perhaps he has gone mad. Did that wicked creature cause him so much torment, that his brain was left to buffer and mentally pause at everything, before pulling him down into another reality. What will Heaven think of him? The Principality who lost his mind. The Principality who dug furiously at the clouds, but only made himself slip through and  _ fall _ .

_ He's going to fall. _

The Angel didn't hear most of the muttering that emitted out of his fellow friend's mouth, but Aziraphale got the message that it was something important from the patient look he was getting from Crowley. 

"Uhm..." He straightened his back, wings tensing up, before relaxing into the continuous stroke, as if the wings had their own thoughts and mind. "Could you... repeat that?"

Crowley felt the wings tensing up, before relaxing under his hands, gently patting the sensitive appendages, knowing how calming that would feel. His own wings were low, pooling around him on the bed, appearing as non threatening as they could.

"I merely asked if you would allow me to heal you anymore? Or if it's too much for you right now." He repeated calmly, spelling it out clearly since he remembered that he had struggled when his mind had been in turmoil. "We can leave the wound on your neck, if that makes you uncomfortable. The rest doesn’t feel like they were caused by demonic means, I should be able to heal them without too much effort." Only the Demonic bite mark would scar, and require an Angel's kiss to heal.

Healing. Right. Right. Yes, that's what he needed. The last thing he wanted was to get reminded of the Demon whenever he glanced at the mirror or looked down to his hands. But... could he show Crowley his wrists..?

Without full thought, Aziraphale's head lowered down, as if hesitant to nod at first, before allowing it to do so. "If it's not too much trouble for you." He muttered, shivering at the gentle brush of Crowley's fingers against his delicate feathers, starting to feel a bit more relieved and focused.

"Aziraphale, you're never too much trouble for me." Crowley's voice was almost painfully sincere, caring more for Aziraphale than anyone else in heaven or earth. They'd been companions for millenia, working side by side and becoming close. He would always do almost anything for his fellow Angel.

Very gently, he used both hands to part Aziraphale's wings, just enough to take hold of both of his hands. The smaller damage he could heal like this, it took more energy when he wasn't touching the wounds directly, but he didn't want to make the other uncomfortable. The mark on the neck would require a kiss, due to being caused directly from demonic means, but the other injuries seemed superficial, accidental injuries due to the attack.

His eyes slipped shut to concentrate, his brows furrowing, there was a soft glow, most noticeable from his wings, that also came to gently press against Aziraphale's, creating a safe space between the two angelic beings. He could mostly feel where his healing was directed, taking someone's pain, it was like it was echoed against his own skin briefly. He got a sense of a lot of tiny cuts along the other's back, as well as bruising, bruising on the other's wrists?

At the little comment, Aziraphale's heart sunk down to his stomach, which already was filled with small and gentle butterflies inside. Though it was different from last night. His friend was the one reassuring him this time, rather than that vile Demon, who wanted nothing but pain from him. Crowley always had good intentions, so it wasn't surprising that the Angel could easily reassure the Principality.

With a weak smile, Aziraphale let the other spread out his wings and continue the process of healing. Perhaps he could even allow the Healer to properly heal his neck too..? The blond glanced up and got to see the focused face of Crowley, and the gentle tint of a glow radiating from his wings.

"The only way to heal my neck would be by an angelic kiss, correct?"

Crowley’s eyes half closed in concentration, having to extend his powers further since he wasn't in direct contact with the injuries. His back itched as he felt tiny cuts heal along the other's back, his wrists warm as bruises faded from his fellow Angel, taking the pain himself until it was dispelled completely. By the time he stopped, his breathing was a little heavier, but his smile showed that he was content to have taken it from Aziraphale.

He focused back on the principality when he heard Aziraphale speaking. "I'm afraid it might be. These other injuries, they're general, could have been caused by anyone. But your neck... such demonic damage, it needs a more heavenly strength. And I'm afraid I can't stop it from scarring." He regretted that, not able to stop his companion from bearing a scar of what had happened. It wouldn't be very obvious, and it was easily hidden under clothes, but they would always know it was there.

He wasn't sure the nature of why the Demon had let him go. Technically he'd also let Crowley go, there was no way it could have torn about an archangel and not knowingly let a healing Angel slip by. Was this a sick game to that vile Creature? Let Aziraphale live with the fact that he'd been attacked and marked by such a creature. He had been pinned down and bitten, did the Demon know that mark would not be able to fully disappear? It made Crowley angry, wanting revenge on his friend’s behalf. But for now, his main priority was patching up Aziraphale, and helping him recover from his traumatic experience.

The Principality nodded slowly, mildly upset about the unfortunate scarring that will stay marked on his human body, but understood what the Healer's purpose of this was. As long as  _ something _ was healed, he would be a little more relieved. 

"I sincerely apologise for asking so much of you..." Aziraphale chuckled shakily, eyes not daring to glance up and stare into Crowley's face as he thought to himself. "However... I give you permission to heal my neck." Whether he was truly ready for it, he wasn't completely sure about it himself, though he just wanted to get it out of the way. He didn't want the pain that rushed through his whole body, just for tilting his head in a certain angle.

"But." His silver eyes suddenly shot up to stare at the other in those golden eyes. "I will only allow it if it means you wouldn't feel any pain either. I know how your healing works, and it is not pleasant, dear. I know."

"You haven't asked for anything, Aziraphale. I offered. I want this, to see you healed physically, so you can focus on any deeper healing you need to do yourself." His eyes were still lowered, feeling the slight lingering sensations peppered over his body as they were dispersed into the other. The sympathetic sensations were only an echo of the real injuries on his companion, but they needed focus and power to disperse completely, they might be small, but the sheer number meant they might linger for a little while.

His eyes came up to meet with Aziraphale's, angelic gold meeting heavenly steel. He had a look of determination and stubbornness in his gaze, not letting himself be persuaded against this. "I promise. What I feel is nothing compared to how it feels to you. And a kiss is a different source of power." The healing draws on his power as an individual, but a kiss, that draws power from his divinity. It was different, but still required a part of his holy self to use.

He didn't give his fellow Angel time to change his mind, or refuse his claims that he would be fine. He leaned forward and kissed his lips between the two puncture wounds from the fangs. It was a different kind of warmth that radiated this time, more heavenly, like being bathed in the love of God Herself, radiating out from the point of contact, of Crowley’s soft lips pressed against broken skin.

The sensation started as a brief tingle to Crowley, feeling it on his own skin in sympathy, and then it built. He felt the wound stitching together under his lips, and it digging into his own neck. By the time he pulled back, the last of the colour was draining from the healed mark, leaving a withered scar in its wake. He didn't pull all the way back, resting his head against the other’s shoulder a moment to try and compose himself, not wanting Aziraphale to see the strain it had taken. He'd never healed a demonic wound before, it had taken more than he had expected, but he didn't want the other to see the effect. Aziraphale had enough to worry over, without worrying for him as well.


	6. Aftermath - part 2

With a sharp inhale, Aziraphale prepared himself for the healing that the other Angel was now insistent on working on. His back tensed up at the kiss, mind immediately pulling him back to the recent night of the Demon attacking him, lunging right at the neck like a cobra. And even if it was soft, it left his whole body to heavily shiver: starting off with his knees, and up to his shoulders.

He almost forgot about Crowley trying to aid his wound as his thoughts were already preoccupied with flashbacks and displeasing thoughts, but the warmth of the press of his lips against his skin lingering away when the other pulled away, caused Aziraphale to wake up. His eyes darted over to look down at Crowley, a frown resting on his miserable face. 

"Crowley... I am sorry." The silently spoken apology couldn't help but slip out once more from the Angel's mouth, before a hand raised up to stroke his back comfortingly. On, and on... in circular motions.

"Don't apologise." Crowley’s voice was soft, but firm. This wasn't Aziraphale's fault, and he hoped the other would get a rest, if only from his physical pain being relieved. "How does it feel?" He hoped it had done the job, the feeling on his own neck was more than he was expecting, and it wasn't dispersing half as quickly as the other damage had. He could taste the venom in the bite, the lingering evil from the creature who made it, now under his skin, but harmless, an echo of darkness that would eventually be drowned in his light.

He felt the soothing hand on his back, letting it relax him slightly before he pulled himself back. He was meant to be the one comforting Aziraphale, not the other way around. "I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry over me. I think I covered all of your injuries?" He hoped so, because he was feeling a little drained, mostly because he hadn't been expecting the evil to still be lingering, causing more of a drain than he'd ever experienced from healing.

Aziraphale sat up, his back straight, while his wings folded back. He didn't need to use them at the moment, as he has eased down in the presence of his fellow friend. "How it felt..? Ah, right. It was fine." He lied. "Of course." He originally spaced out from the motion, stiffening in surprise, so any kind of feeling rather than tension and worry was blocked out almost immediately.

His hand dropped to his own side as Crowley pulled away, clearly not wanting to accept any more of this comfort. "You are part of my worries. Especially now..." The Principality muttered, continuing the eye contact they first had. He ignored the question about his injuries, deciding to continue focusing on the other instead. "You seem exhausted. Are you sure you rested well?"

Crowley's eyes dropped to the scar that now stretched, less noticeable but still there, on the other’s neck, the two dots followed by thin trails where it ripped. "I meant your wound. How does it feel?" He was never on the receiving end of such things, he hoped he'd done a good enough job. He knew the kiss was not the most pleasant thing, Aziraphale had most likely not wanted anyone near his neck, let alone a mouth, even if the intent was quite different. But he didn't call his friend out on the lie, it was not fine, but it was unavoidable.

He missed the hand on his back, but didn't ask for it back, this wasn't about him, and he'd needed to pull back to be able to look over Aziraphale more clearly. "We are bound to worry for each other." He smiled, seeming tired, but still focusing on the other. They had worked side by side since the beginning, they relied and cared for one another in a way that only immortal beings of love could. 

"I believe I rested well. How long did I sleep?" He hadn't bothered to check when he’d woken up, more concerned in finding the other Angel, as if he'd known the other needed him. He'd been known to sleep for days, sometimes even weeks, especially as stressed as he had been.

"Oh. Right." Aziraphale let out a soft noise of realisation, his hand brushing over the wound, while the fingertips lingered for a second more to trace out the bite marks of ripped skin and flesh. Another shudder. "Well, the pain is less noticeable now..." He explained quietly, tilting his head to the side to see if his neck would sting in pain or not.

But once he was done with checking himself if he was alright, the Angel's attention turned back to Crowley. How long he had slept? Over a week, for sure. The other normally sleeps for a much longer time, especially when feeling down or stressed over work. However... a fellow Angel has passed away, Crowley was there to witness, but he did not sleep long enough to possibly get over it. 

So... how many days was it exactly?

"9 days... I believe. Thought you would sleep for longer, no?"

Crowley watched the other checking the wound, looking for any signs of pain, or that it hadn't been enough, but to his relief it seemed to be fine. If it wasn't, then he'd try to do more, but he was relieved that didn't seem to be the case, his felt weary enough with the lingering damage under his own skin. It would be awhile until he felt back to normal, but he didn't care about that, as long as Aziraphale felt better.

"Tell me if anything still hurts, or if it flares up again. I've never needed to heal something demonic before." He hoped he'd done enough, that the evil in the action wouldn't be enough to cause them trouble.

"Nine days..." He frowned, usually he wouldn't have woken up from extreme stress for longer than that, he expected a couple of weeks at least, or even a month. "I'd thought it would be longer. But when I awoke, I felt better than I had in a long time." He admitted, remembering the light feeling he'd felt, as if all the guilt and wrong doings he'd felt he'd done had been wiped clean, purifying him in a way. He assumed it was how humans felt when they'd had their sins cleansed at church.

"Huh. Good for you." Aziraphale murmured out as he glanced up to stare at Crowley as he spoke, listening to how relieved he felt when he woke up. "I'm glad you... got to rest well." He continued to add, the hidden sadness glooming over him more, and more, right until the Angel was forced to look down to his hands fiddling.  _ Wish that was the same case for me. _

His hand continued to run over the wound, obsessing over it and the bite mark that decorated his neck. The Angel's mind has long gone lost focus on its surroundings, and instead, focused on the event that he was slowly reliving. His heart beat increased, though not too much, right until it began to pound against his chest. Subconsciously, the hand that was feeling the scar was now vigorously scratching at it, as if it will make the situation any better and somehow get rid of it.

"It didn't last long." Crowley admitted with a sigh. "As much as I try, I can't sleep off what happened. The memories are always going to be painful." He sighed, knowing that sleep had only helped his mind get some rest from the stress, it hadn't gotten rid of the issue, nothing could. But it had made him feel more himself again.

"Aziraphale. Stop." His voice was soft but firm. He grabbed hold of the hand that was now scratching at the freshly healed scar, his golden eyes gentle but worried, seeing his friend so out of himself. Aziraphale was the level headed one, the one who stayed present and alert when a difficult situation presented itself. It was him who had taken the lead and gotten the clean up done, when Crowley was not himself, and it hurt to see him like that now.

If the other hadn't folded his wings back, then he'd go back to stroking them soothingly, but for now all he could do was stroke his thumbs over the back for Aziraphale's hands, his own wings curling slightly around them in a safe cocoon. "Please. Talk to me. I want to help, but I need you here."

The Principality froze for a good moment, hearing an echo of Crowley's voice in the back of his head as his hand was lowered and held gently by the other Angel. Though now that his body was somewhat frozen, the shakes and trembles of his hands and shoulders were visible more than ever, especially when being held by something else. 

Notwithstanding of the calming rubs on the back of his hands, Aziraphale was still clearly shaken, and not listening to what Crowley had to say anymore. It was as if all dialogue was grabbed out of the air, before it reached Aziraphale's ears, ripped apart and thrown down to the ground. Or even worse, his mind was nothing but a flood. Flooding with flashbacks that filled up those silver eyes and made things seem too real. 

Though by the trick of light and shadows, the Angel caught sight of wings surrounding him and his body. It would've all been fine, if it weren't for them accidentally blocking out the moonlight peeking out of the window, covering Aziraphale in darkness just like the damned Devil.

In an instant, the figure flinched and ripped out of Crowley's grasp, trauma audible in his heavy breathing, while silently muttering, "I'm sorry. I-I...I'm sorry-- I-" Over. And over, again.

Crowley wasn't sure what caused the sudden violent reaction, his wings automatically snapped back and lowered to the bed in a submissive gesture. His wide golden eyes confused and full of sorrow. Had he done something to upset the other? He hadn't done anything he hadn't already done that night, what could have suddenly changed?

"No, shh, it's okay. Aziraphale you're okay, you're safe here." He tried to reassure, his hand reaching for his friend, going to soothe him, but then stopped when he realised he was leaning forwards to do so, sitting back quickly, not wanting to crowd him or loom over him.

Instead, he let a little of his angelic grace extend towards the other, the comforting light of heaven, unseen, but felt by beings such as them. It was all he could think to do. "I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean..." He wasn't sure what he did, but his heart clenched at seeing the other so scared, scared of him? He would never hurt the principality, he couldn't, he cared and loved him too much for that.

The moment he pulled away from the figure's grasp, the wings seemed to have disappeared- no, lowered down to show the other he meant no harm. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows while his metallic eyes darted around Crowley's outline, seeing if anything was there, before finally sensing something. 

While apologies were silently muttered, a grace that gave off the sense of holiness and heavenly light, reminding that the Angel in front of him meant no harm, and that he indeed was an Angel. 

Yes... Of course. Why would  _ he _ want to hurt him, of all beings?

"I'm sorry..." Aziraphale whimpered out, feeling so weak in comparison to how he always acted. Principalities weren't supposed to act submissive or as cowardly. He needed to get a grip. With an inhale, his back straightened, trying to seem somewhat more confident, though the disconsolate look on his face said otherwise. "I-I am fine."

"No, Aziraphale, you're not fine." Crowley sighed, seeing the other attempting to straighten up and appear more put together than he was. "That's okay. You've been through something traumatic, and you need time." Judging by how fresh the wound had been, it couldn't have been long since it happened, he was probably still in shock.

"He's gone now, we're safe here. We'd be able to sense if he was nearby." He tried to assure his fellow Angel. They'd both felt his darkness, the evil was too strong to hide unnoticed for long.

Aziraphale stared back at Crowley, his body not as stubborn as his mind at keeping the reputation of being the strong one of the two, and deciding to relax his posture from before. "Yes... I... I suppose you are right." He let out a heavy sigh, defeat clear in his voice. "I apologise for... acting so foolish... That was quite out of character." 

"I'm confused..." The Angel decided to continue the unpleasant conversation. He needed to get at least  _ some _ things out of his system, and he was slowly... slowly getting a bit of courage to talk about it. "Why... why did he let me live? Did he leave for good..?" His jagged breath stopped for a second, eyes widening at the thought. Oh Lord. What if he comes back for more? What if he thought he wasn't completely done with him? Didn't he mention something about it..? "God Almighty... I-I hope he never comes back."

"Aziraphale. Nothing like this has ever happened before, there is no 'in character' for this. I'm afraid it has put us both out of sorts now." One single Demon, having had such an impact on two Angels of heaven, and in less than two weeks, it was a disturbing thought. And Crowley shivered at the implications. Was it targeting them? 

They were heaven's representatives on earth, after all, but in almost six thousand years, they've hardly ever had to face hell’s wrath directly. This Demon was powerful, and seemed to want nothing more than to make them suffer. Twice now, it could have killed them, and let them live with the aftermath instead.

"If we are lucky. It will be satisfied to have tormented us this badly." But the healer doubted this was over, it felt very, uh, like the beginning of something terrible, like to had been testing the waters so far, seeing how they were affected and what they would do. Crowley knew there was more, something Aziraphale wasn't telling him about the attack, had the demon said or done something that was too terrible for Aziraphale to admit? He didn't pry, as he promised he wouldn't, but he worried for his friend. "We'll have to be careful from now on."

Aziraphale took into consideration to what the fellow Angel explained to him, doubt visibly clouding over his head too, before spreading over to the Principality. "I would hope that was the case, but... I do not believe it's over for me just yet..." His head lowered, trying to remember what the important details of what the Demon mentioned to him. Though his mind was all fogged up with the wicked grin of the creature, and the low growl that Aziraphale belonged to him from now on.  _ Oh Lord, so he knew that the mark would scar. _ Perhaps he knows a bit too much, and that terrified the Angel even more. 

With a quick blink, the silver eyes stared down at his wrists, carefully pulling his sleeve up without trying to make it look obvious to Crowley, before freezing in place.  _ Crowley managed to heal the bruises. _ Did that mean he figured out about them?

"You... truly did heal everything."

"You're not alone. We’re in this together, Aziraphale, and I shall be here for you as long as you will permit me." Crowley promised. This wasn't something that just affected one of them, they had been been tormented by this creature, but something did stick out to him, something that scared him. "You... you remember everything." He himself hadn't remembered a thing when he'd faced the Demon with Raziel, his memory was completely blank until after he'd made the long walk home and stumbled into their house. They had guessed that the creature might have messed with his memories. But why? Why was his memory so clouded, but Aziraphale's left so vividly clear?

"I hope I healed it all. Since I couldn't see or touch the wounds directly, I had to spread the healing throughout your entire body, not knowing where it was needed." He admitted, which is why it was a little more draining that usual, but still, it had been nothing compared to the demonic neck wound. He rubbed his own wrist subconsciously, it still felt slightly warm as the pain disappeared slowly from himself. 

"It's nothing I couldn't have guessed." He assured, hoping that it wasn't some breach of privacy. "I would have assumed you'd need to be restrained for him to make such a mark." Aziraphale would hardly have allowed the Demon to get close enough for a bite like that without putting up a fight.

"Thank you..." The Principality silently murmurs under his breath, almost sounding half-hearted, but that was not the case. He was incredibly exhausted. More mentally than physically, though it still counted either way. "You've done so much for me in such a short amount of time... but I... I have done nothing but complain to you. So, you deserve both a thank you, and an apology from me."

_ I've done nothing but complain to you. _

It was true! All Aziraphale did, ever since Crowley stepped into the room, was vent and vent to the other, before randomly pushing away from him whenever he felt paranoid. Teardrops pricked the silver eyes that kept glancing around the place, up at Crowley, and then back down to the bed. The Angel must be disappointed in him. Seeing the Principality so broken. So weak. He's probably being nice just for the sake of it, as well as it being a must. Angels were immortal creatures of love, after all.

His comment rung in his ear, the word 'restrained' deciding to stay and keep Aziraphale's mind company, while the blond battled his thoughts and feelings. Should he tell Crowley? He felt as if he was going to erupt from all of the bottled up emotions, and the tears were once again trickling down his cheeks. Though they didn't roll their full destination to the jawline, as Aziraphale rubbed them off vigorously.

"Agh... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Aziraphale... You helped me when I was broken, please, let me return the favour. Let me know what I can do to help you." Crowley wasn't sure what he could do, he'd healed his friend physically, but he couldn’t do anything with his mental scars, especially when Aziraphale seemed locked in his own mind and grief. 

"We have been companions for almost six thousand years, you and me. And in that time, I have vented and poured my heart out to you more times that you should have put up with. You owe me no apologies." He assured, giving the other a soft sympathetic smile. Aziraphale never asked anything of him, and now he was the one in need of help, Crowley was more than happy to return the favour.

"Please. I just want to help you." Crowley moved ever so slightly closer, not much, and slowly, not wanting to trigger the other by scaring him again. He didn't know what was triggering, or what was okay. He wished he knew the whole story. He kept his grace extended, a warm comfort between them, a reminder that there was nothing but heaven's light, and two beings of love in this space.

Aziraphale felt the sweat drench and stick to his pale skin, the thumping of his heart against the chest that now had a hand of his own hovering over it, subconsciously trying its best to ease down his heart. Though... isn't it more noticeable this way? The fingers of the free hand curl into a fist, nails digging into his palm. The Angel can't hear his own rapid breathing, but the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs was quite obviously a noticeable feeling. Lungs expanding and collapsing with no rhythm whatsoever. Was he ready to tell the truth? 

Hesitantly, a hand reached out for the said companion of 6,000 years, desperation for comfort taking over his mind. This was someone he could trust to a full extent... so why did a single sudden movement got him flying to the next side of the bed? 

"He..." Aziraphale croaked out, the tears coming back to avenge the wiped ones, already streaming down his face even before he started talking properly. "H-He wanted more than just... this." With a shaky movement, the hand that clenched his own heart pointed up to the scar on his neck, while the other squeezed Crowley's hand. "Obviously... for a Demon, his mind was full of sin." 

More specifically, lust. But the Principality couldn't speak out anything any further. The trembles of his upper body and arms was getting more violent, and even while his mouth was parted open to continue talking, nothing but heavy breathing dared to come out.

Crowley took the hand offered to him, glad to have some physical contact back, feeling like it was the least he could do to help the other, who clearly didn't want to be touched, but was in need for comfort. He saw the way his companion hoped and clenched his hand over his heart, and it hurt to think of the pain he must be feeling, the pain that foul demon put him through.

Crowley's brows furrowed at the explanation, taking time to dissect what it meant. The Demon wanted more than just to mark him? He was a creature of sin, but what sin was Aziraphale referring to? His mind ran through the worst ones, trying to think of ones that would apply to this situation. Jealousy, Wrath, lu... no. His heart sunk, not that, surely he didn't! His eyes widened, thinking over the signs. Not wanting to be touched, nervous about the bruises on his wrists being seen, avoiding the topic for as long as possible, even being hesitant about the kiss.

"You mean he...." He extended his healing powers once more, but found nothing else that he missed, surely he would have done damage if he'd tried to interfere with the Angel that way? His own heart sank. What exactly had happened to his friend?

Aziraphale paused his heavy breathing, trying to silence it just to see if the other figured out what he meant or not. Those golden eyes widened, meaning that he did perhaps put some of the puzzle pieces together. Though his sentence never finished, and the Angel took it in as a message to continue.

"I... was f-forced into... some of his--" He took a breath, glancing up briefly at the ceiling, before the eye contact held with the other returned. "Lustful needs..." Aziraphale muttered, both hands gripping harder onto whatever they were holding: one clinging onto Crowley's hand, while the other on his ruined shirt. He should probably change, but that wasn't one of his worries at the moment.

Another shaky breath, and Aziraphale let out a sob, that was soon enough muffled by the hand that once gripped firmly onto the Healer. If hearts could break like a vase, then those shattered pieces would already be digging into the organs and muscles keeping the heart tucked away. "I-I am so-- so sorry!" Additional apologies spilled out from the continuous cries and wails, somewhat audible, somewhat not.

Lustful. Oh Lord, he didn't want to be correct about this, and he felt his own heart break at the confirmation. "Oh, oh Lord, I'm so sorry." Crolwey’s mind was reeling, not even able to comprehend how Aziraphale must be feeling. To have something like that forced upon him by that vile Demon. He was in awe that he'd been holding himself together for as long as he had been.

"Don't. Don't you dare apologise like any of this is your fault." Crowley's voice was soft, but firm, golden eyes full of sympathy and wanting to help. "What he did to you... Nothing was your fault, he forced that upon you. No one could ever blame you for something so disgusting and unwanted." How could Aziraphale apologise for that. Crowley wished he'd known, he would have been more delicate about the situation. 

His hand reached out, before thinking better of it and pulling it back. He probably didn't want to be touched right now, he was scared of any touch being too much. He didn't want to trigger or scare the other in any way.

Somehow finally managing the courage to vaguely say what the Principality was part of, made him break and spread out the wings that were neatly tucked away for quite a bit now. Through teary eyes and hazy vision, Aziraphale took notice of the hand reaching out for him - took notice of how the Healer wanted to help. And he needed it. But that hesitation. That hesitation taking over and convincing him not to made the silver eyes to squeeze shut and turn away. 

He felt filthy. He was filthy. The touches of the Demon burning into his soul rather than body, and now Crowley finally understood. He probably is beyond disappointed in him. A Principality not putting enough of a fight and letting a creature from the deep pits of Hell to have his needs met and satisfied.


	7. Aftermath - part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, it seems I accidently reposted chapter 6 earlier instead of chapter 7 ^^'' Thank you Doublematch for pointing that out, or I might not have noticed!

Aziraphale already had his knees pulled up and held firmly by his chest, hugging himself for comfort he knew he wouldn't be getting anymore. He didn't deserve it. "Y-You... do not...n-need--" He tried speaking, though the cries kept interrupting his speech. Even when he was trying to do his best to let out what he wanted to say, his heaving and sobbing kept shoving it all back down in his throat, before letting it out as a hiccup. So instead, the Angel kept whimpering out what was easier to say. Apologies.

"I don't need to. But I  _ want _ to. Please." Crowley's heart was shattering into a million pieces, the Principality was so strong, to only just let himself grieve and break down, but he needed help, and comfort. Aziraphale needed to know that he wasn't alone, and that he had a friend to try and help him through this. Crowley really hoped he could help him through this.

"Is. Is it okay if I stroke your wings again?" Crowley needed to ask permission, knowing how the other had had a lot of unwelcome touches, and not wanting to trigger any negative responses. He wouldn't ask, but it had helped to calm Aziraphale earlier, and it might relax him now, to have a friendly, calm touch from someone he could trust.

"Listen to me Aziraphale. That Demon is a vile creature of evil and sin. He  _ used _ you. That has no reflection on yourself. You are still an Angel, still pure, no matter how you are feeling right now." Trying to remind him that he isn't falling. If heaven saw such an act against Aziraphale as sinful, then he wouldn't still be pure, a being of love.

Over the couple of hours that the Principality was left alone after the heart-aching and terrorising event, all he ever did was lay still and think, or blink away the tears that dared to say how he was truly feeling. Heartbroken. Traumatised. Hopeless. Though now that the tears were finally fully freed, they did not seem to stop anytime soon. 

The gigantic wings wrapped around the curled up figure, shielding his own body from anything outside of his little space, while he proceeded to try and calm down the sobs that haunted and caused him to cringe. Yes, like Crowley said, he still may be an Angel... but an Angel who will be labelled as a coward amongst others. Or perhaps a traitor. Letting himself, the weapon of Heaven, to eventually let the Demon control him under his thumb.

The violent shedding of tears continued for another while, however, with a little bit of patience, it all began to hush down into hiccups and occasional whines. Now his mind was thinking once more. Perhaps Crowley was right. Perhaps not.

"But... he blocked us out s...somehow." One of Aziraphale's wings rose up to stare at the fellow Angel with bloodshot eyes, voice still quite shaky as his aching brain tried to control the breathing into a gentle rhythm. "You couldn't sense him or my pleads for help... He... k-knew what he was doing."

Crowley couldn't do anything, he felt pathetic and useless, a healer who was faced with a pain he had no power to touch. Those powerful wings seemed so fragile, shielding and hiding the principality away in his own space to cry out his trauma, it was so isolating to watch.

He slowly brought his hand up, first to rest against the feathers, and then once he was sure the other wasn't going to flinch away, gently stroking them. Hoping to offer even such a small comfort, when he was locked out of Aziraphale's space like this.

Crowley cursed his own imagination, because in the silence, he could imagine the scene. Aziraphale pinned to the wall, no, the floor, hands gripped above his head. It was so vivid he could almost see it, the tears straining Aziraphale's face, sharp claws and teeth sinking into his skin. He shook his head, trying to will his mind to stop torturing himself with such images. It was his imagination working against him, trying to fill in blanks he didn't want to think about, didn't want to see or hear the scene his mind was trying to paint for him. He felt the emotions, even though it was impossible, he wasn't there.

There was moisture building in Crowley's own eyes, but he wouldn't let the tears fall, he needed to be strong for them both right now. "He is obviously powerful. You. You didn't sense it either when he... when the ritual went wrong. He's found a way to shield himself. We need to be extra careful, try to stick together if we can."

Aziraphale allowed for his wings to lower down and spread one of them out on the bed for Crowley's reach. "Y-Yes... I suppose so... he will not back down until--" Now that the Angel was calming himself down, hiccups still continued to interfere with his speech. "Agh.. until he's destroyed. Or if we protect ourselves from his... demonic actions.

The Principality's chest continued to rise and fall heavily, the head that was resting on his own knees bobbed slightly in motion to it, while it faced the Healer besides him. "The pain... that I may go through... does not trouble me." His silver eyes stared into the golden eyes that were visibly watering, lips quivering but trying to curve into a smile - even to a weak one - just to try and reassure the other he was somewhat okay. "A-As long as you're safe..."

Crowley sighed shaking his head while he continued to pet the wing that was offered to him, finding the action calming for both of them. He didn't want his Angelic friend being selfless for his sake, he didn't need other be a martyr to protect Crowley from the pain. "My safety is not the concern here Aziraphale. He's messed with the both of us now. Only you got the worst of it, it seems." 

As far as Crowley was aware, the Demon had been more preoccupied with Raziel to come after him, but he couldn't be sure, not with his memory of the event hazy at best, and non existent at worst. It haunted him, not knowing what happened that day, and possibly never knowing for sure if he was truly a coward, or had been manipulated by hell.

He was ignoring the moisture in his own eyes, he wasn't selfish enough to let any tears fall. Not when they were caused by his own traterious mind, trying to play a slideshow of false memories to imagine the fall scene of what happened to Aziraphale. "And he allowed you to remember what happened." His voice was quiet when he said that, still disturbed by the idea that his memory might have been altered, but he didn't bother with the Principality's, as if he  _ wanted _ that cruel act to be remembered and cause more pain. 

Aziraphale shifted his head to stare into the corner of a room, the weak smile long gone and replaced with a frown as he listened to Crowley talk about the Demon on, and on. This conversation was not up to his taste, in fact, anyone's taste between the Angels. Crowley was obviously uncomfortable by this too."He did indeed..." The eyebrows furrowed into a knot, deciding to keep talking. He'd rather talk some things out rather than suffer in silence, all alone. Perhaps then his mind wouldn't go as mad. 

"I remember everything so vividly... as if it was h-happening now." So why didn't the other Angel too? Not that he wanted him to suffer from crystal clear memories that haunted him at each second, but he was curious... why not? Did the Demon prefer to deal differently with each of his prey? Either murder it, traumatise it and manipulate its memory, or just let it remember  _ everything _ . He didn't know what was worse. But at this point, he didn't know... well, understand most things anymore. The Principality was baffled - mind unable to think properly. 

_ Damn you, Demon. _

Crowley wasn't sure which was worse, knowing and suffering every detail of what that day, not Demon did to you, or knowing nothing, left to wonder and fear what might have happened with no memory. They were both disturbing scenarios to be placed in, and it seemed this Demon was intending to play mind games with them, break them down. 

Did new realise that Crowley's imagination would drive him mad trying to fill in impossible gaps, fear of what might have been done to him without his knowledge, while Aziraphale would agonise over every small detail and second, forced to relive the trauma. It was disturbingly efficient to the difference of how they processed things, as if the fiend knew how to strike where it hurts them most.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could take the painful memories away from you." Crowley had very vivid images and sounds in his mind, and they were just his imagination, but they were horrible. The real thing, to remember so clearly that kind of abuse and trauma, it was heartbreaking to know his closest friends had to suffer that way. "What he did was sick, and twisted. Even for a Demon." A brutal attack was one thing, but to derive such a sick lustful desire from doing that, and to an Angel. He shuddered.

"Sometimes things don't go to plan... Sometimes there's nothing we can do but help each other just by being there..." Aziraphale let out an audible exhale, mental and emotional exhaustion loud and clear to echo through the room. His silver orbs kept glaring into the wall, the hands that hugged his own figure, gripping harder onto the shoulder blades and digging blunt nails into the ripped shirt. With a slightly twisted face, he pulled his hand away to stare at his nails: dirty and cracked from the cobblestone ground he clawed at earlier before getting pinned. Now Crowley wasn't the only one shuddering.

His wings continued to lay still, finding comfort in the touches rather than the ones that gripped and pulled them down to the ground, letting the whole weight of the Principality to fall back onto them, before cowering out in fear of the delicate feathers getting ripped out. "If it's an Angel... H-He does not care. It's why he was so interested in... me." 

Then, a short gasp, and Aziraphale turned to Crowley with shock in those icy grey eyes, as if getting reminded of something. "That Demon knew so much about me, a-and... and you too-- I... was so surprised..."

"You are right of course. We can't change what had happened. But I will always be here for you Aziraphale." Crowley promised, letting out little sigh. That's all he could do now, be a friendly ear for Aziraphale to talk it out with, and a comforting presence to help ground him and stop him feeling so alone with his trauma.

It didn't escape the healers notice how his friend glances down at his nails with a wince. He'd be sure to suggest a soothing bath later for the other, hopefully it would help him relax and feel clean after what he'd been through.

"You said he had accosted a young lady. It seems he had the intent from the start, before you arrived." Though he doubted the vile creature would have settled for a human, not if he had the chance to defile an Angel. It made him sick to think about. Aziraphale may have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"How could he..." Crowley assumed the Demon would know him, after all he had been at the ritual. But Aziraphale? His blood ran cold, how did the beast know of Aziraphale. "What did he know about you?"

"I couldn't just leave her there and let him have it his own way..." Aziraphale murmured, fury taking control of his face at the disturbing thought of it. "I am a Principality... I  _ must _ protect anybody innocent whenever I can. E-Even... even if the consequences are difficult to get over with."

But his look eased down, sadness visiting and regulating the mood swings once more. The swan wings twitched in response, starting to tense up automatically as the human body started to lose its adrenaline. They will either wrap around him another time, or be tucked away completely, all depending on where this sadness will leave the blond Angel.

"The Demon knew... who I was. My name, my rank... my close relationship with you and Raziel... everything." Aziraphale stared at Crowley, examining how he will react to this. He must be not the only one who thinks this is crazy. But it's not! It's all real. It is.

"I never recalled somebody... stalking us."

"Shh, I didn't mean to imply... I was only suggesting that he already had the intention before he saw you. He may not have singled you out for such abuse, only took the opportunity once you'd arrived." Crowley explained, feeling terrible if Aziraphale thought he'd been suggesting that he'd leave an innocent to suffer in his place. He would never suggest that, he was an Angel, and they knew their place in protecting humanity. 

Though a darker part of him very much would have preferred some insignificant human take the wrath of a Demon, before his beloved Angelic friend. But that part had no power over him, just a thought shoved to the back of his mind because he would, could never entertain such unangelic thoughts.

He felt the twitching under his hand, wondering if Aziraphale wanted to pull them away, but not wanting to strop his calming minstuations until he was sure the other hand enough of his gentle touch.

He blinked in surprise, only to have his own eyes widened at the implications. "He was there, at the ritual grounds, when I was cleaning the blood. I felt the evil the moment we arrived, but, I couldn't trust my own senses. My mind was too confused and distant." Crowley had kept coming in and out of his own mind, remembering the sensations, hallucinations, imagining his hands had thick black claws, the sense of someone watching him when he was sure he was alone.

"He could have overheard me saying your name... but your rank. Aziraphale, how could he know such things?" Crowley's voice held no disbelief, he believed Aziraphale. But the thought of this creature knowing about them personally, to have such knowledge of who they were, it was disturbing to think about.

The fact that the Demon was apparently present when they were cleaning up the ritual grounds, still managed to confuse Aziraphale. He did not feel his presence. He made sure to double check before leaving with the body, or else he wouldn't have left Crowley all alone.

How much ungodly power did this twisted immortal have?

"He knew I was a Principality. Told me that if he was able to... get an Archangel... he could do the same to me." Aziraphale continued talking after the red-head finished, ignoring the tears that summoned themselves the more his mind revisited what that foul creature growled and threatened him. 

"That Demon possessed the knowledge of me being vulnerable too. I did not have my flaming sword on me, but it was as if he was already acquainted with that information."

Crowley's eyes closed briefly, hearing the threats of what the Demon could do to them, if he'd managed to destroy an archangel. Because that was a fact, but hearing it so bluntly flaunted, that he had killed their friend, and could most certainly over power them, it hurt. And even more so, made it all the more twisted that he'd decided to play horrific games with them instead.

His blood ran cold. There's no way he could know about the sword. Heaven itself didn't know that Aziraphale didn't possess his weapon any longer, so how could a creature of hell have that kind of knowledge. "That's impossible. This whole thing's too bizarre. How could hell have this information, when heaven is still unaware about the sword."

The Principality stared at the other with an intense look, "I am not bluffing, if that is what you're suggesting." His posture straightened, knees lowering down while his arms moved to rest besides his sides, though the wings stayed put. "That... that... creature is powerful and he knows it." He was starting to get tense, but this is what that Demon would've wanted. A friendship ruined over what seemed like a simple thing, but it truly wasn't.

No. He needed to calm down. He couldn't let  _ him _ receive what he wanted once again.

_ Deep breaths, Aziraphale. Deep breaths. _

"Are you sure you haven't spoken to anybody about the sword before? What if... what if Heaven finds out because of this?" Aziraphale turned his face to the side, seeing all the rising frustration of a Demon knowing all of their secrets was making him glare into Crowley's soul. Or anything, really. "I... can't let that happen."

What if... he went to see him again? There was no other way of finding out how he received all of this knowledge, was there?

"Aziraphale, I would never think you would say such things if they were not the complete truth." Crowley assured, hoping to placate his friend, who had taken his words in the wrong way. "I merely meant that knowledge is impossible, and yet he knew it. Not that what you're saying is anything but the truth." He knew the principality better than anyone, and Aziraphale would never bluff, or bend logic with such a serious topic. "He has more powerful than any Demon I have ever heard of."

"I wouldn't breathe a word about it to anyone. I know how terrible the consequences would be. I would never risk mentioning it outside of these walls." The sword had been a very closely guarded secret between them two, not even poor Raziel had known, because of his position as an archangel. 

"I doubt heaven is aware of the creature's presence yet. They cannot know what he knows. If they did, we would have been sent for already." Crowley was still fearfully waiting for when they found out about Raziel, and the cowardice he showed at the ritual grounds. "I swear. I will do all in my power to make sure it doesn't happen."

His wings fluttered nervously at the thought, he would surely fall. But Aziraphale shouldn't fall, would heaven have mercy upon finding out the fate of his sword? For attempting to do the right thing back in Eden? He wouldn't let that happen, not if he could do anything in his power to save his companion. He would fall to protect him if he must.

If only the other's wording wasn't as great, and Aziraphale would already have lost his temper fueled by the constant flashbacks at the back of his mind, working up so quickly it was once again overwhelming. 

_ Calm your mind, for God's sake! _

Wait.

Mind.

"Can immortals read each other's minds? For instance... Demons deciping an Angels thoughts?" The Principality breathed out, eyes darting around the room anxiously as he panicked over that possible power. The Demon knew the worst things to say at the perfect time, and it could terrify anybody.

Crowley frowned, trying to think if that was a thing that could be possible. "I...am not sure if Demons can do that. But even if they could, they shouldn't be able to touch the minds of Angels..." But he trailed off, thinking of his own memory, and how hazy and messed up it was regarding the Demon. He swallowed nervously, not wanting to believe such a thing would be true, but scared of the very idea.

"Surely... Surely we would know. That kind of power would have tipped the balance, wouldn't it?" Demons would have used that to their advantage before if they had that kind of weapon to use against them, they would have made a larger scale attack against heaven by now. "And... We'd feel it if our minds had been invaded by darkness. Right?" He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Aziraphale, or himself.

"Right... That thought is complete balderdash , I should have bit my tongue." Whether the last sentence was metaphorical or not, that did not stop the Angel from biting his own tongue either way. Perhaps things were better when he kept such things to himself and not stress out a fellow Angel with idiotic theories. "I.. I apologise."

Crowley was right. If Demons had access to such dangerously damaging secrets, they would have overthrown Heaven all together by now. 

Aziraphale let out a defeated sigh, hand raising up to rub the temple of his head. "Sorry..." Another apology, "I... don't think I can handle any more of this subject."

"No. It's... it's a logical thought to come to... given what we've been through ." Crowley did not like this way of thinking, it was unsettling, and outright disturbing. That this Demon could have such power, to outright play with them like this. He hoped that theory was wrong.

"No need to apologise." Crowley's voice was soft, knowing he'd said it many times tonight, and he'll probaly say it many times in the future as well. He understood the need to not dwell on this. They couldn't do anything in this moment, they were just worrying and disturbing themselves more.

With a sigh, Crowley decided to try and change the topic. "Would you like me to make us some tea instead? Then perhaps you should draw a bath. The warm water should help ease you." He suggested, wanting to help the other still, his need to protect and look after his dearest friend.

The Angel's eyes that stared right at Crowley were hard to describe. It was as if they swirled in the colours of grey, blue and green, changing without command from whatever he was feeling. Whenever he cried, those eyes turned icy blue, piercing into anything they stared at. Whenever he was calm or relaxed, the colour warmed and were painted in green. Now, the crystal-like orbs did not contain much colour in them. Only grey, complimenting the moonshine absorbed by the walls. They continued to stare, like an owl in the shadows of the night.

"Perhaps... I will have some tea after my bath. I would rather freshen up and clear my train of thought first." Aziraphale muttered, miracling himself a handkerchief to gently dab away the streaks of tears. The majestic wings pulled back from Crowley's reach, although not suddenly, showing that he was fine with the comforting strokes, but they couldn't sit and do nothing for any longer. They slowly tucked themselves in, before the Principality turned his body around and let his legs reach the ground.

Crowley nodded, figuring that would be a good idea, it was how his friend dealt with things. Crowley needed to talk and not be alone, but Aziraphale sometimes did better on his own, to clear his thoughts and think logically without distractions.

"If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask." Crowley meant it, and his voice was firm on that, making sure Aziraphale didn't think this was just out of some Angelic kindness. He needed the other to know that he would be there for him, as a close friend, and someone who cared deeply. "I won't be going back to sleep. So I'll be able to hear if you call for me."

Aziraphale was about to let his arms push himself up from the bed, but only froze as Crowley spoke out to him with an aura of kindness radiating off of him, offering to continue to help at anytime. The Principality did not face the other, but a nod from him was still visible, accepting the offer. 

"I will try not to take too long." A mutter escaped his mouth, quiet enough for the red-head behind him to hear, before getting up from the bed with a nearly inaudible sigh, beginning to head over to the door. The weight of the figure caused for the wooden floorboards to creak, filling up the silence as the Angel went his own way. 

However, those creaks elongated as the pressure increased. Aziraphale decided to pause. Turn back to the Angel he had to leave for a quick moment. "Crowley." The ordinary voice echoed out from his lips, gently curving into a smile. Somewhat heartwarming, yet heartbreaking that the pain was still hidden inside. But the Principality was trying his best. Especially now that he had someone to pull him back onto his feet.

"Thank you."

With a turn of the knob, the door opened and the figure stepped out of the room, lingering in there only for a moment to see the Healer's reaction before leaving.

"Take all the time you need." Crowley smiled, sad that he can do nothing more to help at this time, he'd just have to be here and help Aziraphale try and return to their normal life. If things would ever be normal again with the complications between them and heaven. They needed to deal with this themselves, at least until heaven calls for them to explain. For now, they were on their own, but they still had eachother.

"Anytime, Aziraphale." He answered the thank you, trying to put on a brave and casual smile, not sure how successful he was. "Anytime." He repeated, quietly to himself, voice little more than a sigh once the other left the room. He would always be there for Aziraphale, he would fall before willingly letting him get hurt. Perhaps he cared too much for a fellow Angel, but they were beings of love, and his love had always been strongest for the principality.

He waited for a while, in his friend's little used bedroom, but standing and making his way downstairs, preparing to pass the time until his Aziraphale finished up and came down for tea, or until he needed him, whichever came first.

As he came down the stairs, his eyes landed on his cane, leaning innocently near his coat. Giving him an idea. It was something he could work on while the other took his time to compose and relax himself.


	8. Aftermath - part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, late upload, life got in the way. But better late than never

By the time the creak of the stairs, caused by a certain figure going down them, faded into silence, Aziraphale was already filling up the bathtub with clean water, occasionally sticking his hand in there to check the temperature. He preferred warm, but not boiling where the flesh of his flesh would instantly melt just from an innocent drop. 

When the bathtub was almost overflowing, its temperature was checked once more. Warm. Could be a little cooler, but... It will cool down over time.

The Angel let out a tired sight, his hands drying off onto one of the smaller towels, before slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt and folding it neatly. Then followed the rest of the outfit too. One by one. 

"Right..." Aziraphale exhaled, putting his socks in the laundry basket, and calmly climbed into the filled up tub. That's hotter than expected. With a twitch, the bushy eyebrows furrowed in frustration, but it was too late. His body was already slowly submerging into the water. In all fairness, it was more relaxing when he did not move, as then he did not feel like he was being burned alive.

After quite some time, perhaps thirty minutes or so, the door swung open and came out an Angel who was wrapped in a creamy coloured robe, steam still lingering off of his flushed body from the heat of the water. At a slow pace, he made his way down the hallway and the stairs, struggling to walk silently with the slippers that were too stubborn to stay on his feet, before walking into the living room, where Crowley seemed to be. "Is the tea done, or should I go over and brew some?"

Crowley was muttering something to himself when he heard Aziraphale on the stairs, the feeling of blessings and miracles warm in the air, but stopping when Aziraphale approaches him. A couple of wards have been put up around the downstairs, but nowhere near enough, not yet, just enough to obscure the blessing and Angelic energies Crowley was clearly putting up.

"The water is boiled, but I haven't made it yet. I can take care of that if you wish?" He'd have had the tea ready, but he didn't want to let it go cold before Aziraphale came down for it. He stood up, his cane laying on the table in front of him, and nothing else.

Aziraphale examined the living room in silence, eyes scanning around each object that laid around, before focusing back on the cane on the table. Wasn't that placed near the front door for when they go for Sunday walks? Crowley always enjoyed walking with one of his fancy canes decorated with an animal head of any sort, but now he seemed to be working on it.

Though he shook his head, deciding not to linger on the small details too much, as that will just drive him into madness of rising questions, and that was the last thing he wanted after taking a somewhat relaxing bath. 

"Nothing to worry about, Crowley. You can stay seated while I head over to the kitchen and get it sorted." He spoke out, voice much clearer and confident than it was before. Perhaps the bath did help. Made him put his feelings to the back of his mind and focus on going through his daily routine, rather than get coiled up by unnecessary thoughts. 

"No sugar, correct?"

"Milk no sugar, thank you." Crowley confirmed, turning back to the cane thoughtfully, running his fingers over the polished silver serpent head. 

It wasn't ready yet, but he didn't want to upset Aziraphale when he was clearly trying to come back to normality. His side project could wait for now, but he wanted to reveal it before Aziraphale left the house next. 

"I trust the bath helped?" His companion did seem more refreshed and put together, though obviously there was still a long way to go before he would be himself again.

Aziraphale was about to turn on his heels and leave to head over to the kitchen, though the voice of the other Angel made him freeze and turn the attention fully back on him. 

"Yes... I suppose. It was decent." He replied back, going about the situation in a neutral way. "Ah, anyways. I will go brew the tea." 

Without any more comments, he already began walking over to the kitchen, swinging the door open in silence before stepping inside. Inside, was a small and cramped room what they called the kitchen. They didn't really need it, but because the Principality loved the human food way more than he should, his stubbornness allowed for the somewhat hidden room to stay. 

On the stove was placed a teapot that was still steaming out from the top, but perhaps not as much as before. 

"Hm," With a hum, Aziraphale took out a silver plated spoon diffuser and placed it on the cup for it to hold, only to then take out some herbs and set it inside the diffuser. A diffuser was used so the herbs of the tea would stay at the top as the water is being poured down into the cup, not allowing for any bits to slip through the little holes and swim around in the tea. Even though he did not mind, they were  some picky individuals.

Minutes passed by, and nothing was heard from the kitchen except from items being put away and the muffled clinking of tea spoons against the cups. "Your tea." The blond Angel suddenly appeared in front of Crowley, with the help of a cheeky miracle, feeling that walking over to the living room will only make him spill everything. Especially with the increased rates of tripping with these slippers.

That was the most Crowley would bring up what happened, as a healer he wanted to keep up on the state of his friend's health, there was only so much he could do with his power. Rolling his shoulders back, he could still feel the sting on his neck, the only remaining pain from his healing. It seemed to be reluctant to leave him anytime soon, the darkness weakened, but holding on far longer than a normal wound. 

He was listening to the sounds from the kitchen, sitting back in his usual chair. He should take it easy for a while, using his powers to heal something demonic, and then performing blessings, he should be conserving his power in case he needs to protect Aziraphale or himself.

He was so caught up in his own head, and listening to the sounds from the kitchen, that when Aziraphale was suddenly in front of him, it made him visibly jump, still a little on edge. "Ah, right. Thank you." He smiled a little sheepishly as he took the cup.

Aziraphale almost jumped back himself at the other flinching in surprise, but continued to stay put on the ground for the sake of the tea that would've gone flying. "Apologies for startling you." He murmured, allowing for Crowley to carefully take the cup out of his hand at a slow pace just so it wouldn't spill. "Careful, it is still quite hot."

The Principality was swift to head over to his own seat to enjoy his own cup of tea - placing it down on the table and have some free hands to fix his robe, only to then take hold of it once more.

Though most of his attention wasn't completely on the herbal tea. With continuous glimpses to the cane, it was obviously what he was truly interested in. 

"Something wrong with the cane?" Aziraphale questioned with a raised eyebrow, softly blowing on the surface of his drink before giving it a taste.

"It's fine. Just a little on edge I guess." Crowley managed to smile back as Aziraphale apologised for making him jump. The hot drink helped, giving him something else to focus on, other than the feeling of the invisible wound on his neck, and the power drain he was feeling. 

He tired to ignore the way Aziraphale kept glancing at the cane, right up until he drew attention to it. "Nothing wrong with it. I was... Woking on blessing it." He admitted, putting down the cup so he could stand and take it in hand. "I bought this cane mostly because I liked the design. But it wasn't the only reason." He let his fingers trail over the silver detailing thoughtfully. He hadn't intended to reveal it before now, it was bought on a whim, not something he'd even thought he would use.

"Please, I hope you do not think less of me for owning such a thing." It wasn't angelic, no one would believe he owned such a thing without having intending to use it, especially since it was his favorite to use, but this time it might have paid to be cautious. He twisted the snake's head, and it came away from the base, revealing the long thin blade concealed inside. 

"It is no replacement for a heavenly blade. But I've been working blessings onto the metal. It will take time to build them up, I don't dare do anything too big." He didn't stop talking, knowing this could go very wrong if Aziraphale didn't agree, so he had to explain himself before letting the other argue or turn against him. "I trust you noticed the wards? I needed to shield my work. Heaven would ask too many questions on why a sword was being blessed."

The silver eyes watched how the Healer got up from his seat just to demonstrate the cane. Why he wanted to bless it so demandingly was beyond Aziraphale's understanding. But he continued to watch, curious on perhaps learning a thing or two about why this cane was important. 

Surprising his expectations, Crowley twisting the serpent's head and, at an easy flow of his movements, let a glinting metal to reveal itself caused for those peering eyes to widen. The stainless steel shining under the moonlight that slowly dimmed as the night ended, now made it obvious for the Principality to realise what it was. A cane sword. 

"I hope you did not use it." His words were thick and firm, a faint glare that warned the other resting on his face. The weapon was only blessed recently, meaning that if it was used, it wouldn't have been on a Demon. But he knew that Crowley would never do such a thing. He had no reason to harm other humans, he is an Angel, and a Healer.

With an audible sigh and short shuffling in his armchair, Aziraphale's sour look vanished. "I suppose protecting yourself after what has happened nearly a fortnite ago would be a right idea." He took another sip of his tea, the warmth of the liquid gradually filling up his insides. "The last thing I would want is you running into some trouble with that  vile creature and let him hurt you." Though while his face has somewhat softened, the bitterness in his voice decided to stay,  especially when talking about the sickening immortal.

"Aziraphale, I would hope you know me better than that." Crowley sighed, trying to hide the sting of his friend needing to ask if he'd used the sword. He didn't think he'd have it in him to end a life, or if he would ever use it, it would only be in defence.

"Actually. I wanted you to take it." He admitted softly, looking over the blade before holding it out to his friend. "I feel the strain of my powers, or I would have done more to bless it today, I needed a rest for now." Aziraphale out ranked him slightly, he would be able to do more blessings without heaven taking notice, and he wasn't drained from healing. 

"It may not be enough to kill, since it is no replacement for your sword. But it should be able to wound, or damage that creature should you have the misfortune of meeting him again." It was better than nothing, and blessed metal should give it enough pause to allow Aziraphale to escape, if nothing else. "I would feel better knowing that you are not unarmed."

No, Aziraphale did not spit out his tea to exaggerate his surprise at the offer of the sword, but he did manage to nearly choke on the beverage and let out a muffled cough. "I-I'm sorry-- what?" The Angel sat up, putting the cup back onto the plate placed on the table, just so it wouldn't be in his way again. 

"I suppose I could finish blessing it, but... I'm not exactly sure if I will take it for usage." The Principality murmured while his eyebrows knotted together, eyes scanning through the sword as it was handed over to his hands. It was kept in perfect shape, of course, as Crowley always took good care of the cane, not misusing it anyway. But now, this made even more sense why he was so cautious with it at times. 

"What about you? You need something to defend yourself with, just as much as I do."

"I can continue blessing it when my strength returns." Crowley wasn't implying for Aziraphale to take over on that front, it wouldn't be fair to assize him a job he might not be comfortable with. He placed the sheath of the cane back on the table. "It's just a precaution. Insurance, in case it all goes wrong, so you aren't left defenseless."

What about him? He sighed, having not thought this through enough to realise that the principality would worry for him as well. "I am not the fighter between us. You were built to wield a sword, you should have a weapon by your side, even if it more than pales in comparison to your flaming sword." He tried to justify. "I may have bought this cane knowing it's secret. But I do not know if I possess it in me to use it myself."

The Principality stared at the other for a long while, trying to find a better reason why he should keep the cane wielding a sword inside it, except for the obvious reason of self-defense. But his mind has already decided, and he only shook his head at the suggestion. 

"Out of the question." Aziraphale took a better hold of the sword by gripping it on the handle, while letting his now free hand to grab the cane and let the two pieces go back together. Back to being a regular looking cane. "If you cannot guarantee that you will have something to protect yourself, I will not take it."

"I can find something else. Any blessed object should give it time to pause for me to escape." Because as much as he hated to admit it, his best course for his survival was to flee, he wasn't meant for fighting, he was the shield, made to defend and heal. He should have shielded and defended Raziel, and he had failed, he couldn't guaranty that he would be there for Aziraphale either, though he could gladly throw himself into hellfire itself to save the principality if he could. 

"But you are the sword of heaven, Aziraphale. You should not be unarmed. He knows that you do not possess a weapon, there is no way for him to know that is no longer the case." He placed his hand on the cane, and gently pushed it back towards his friend, expression firm in his conviction. "It would be better suited in the hands of someone who fully knows how to wield it efficiently, and who has the strength to use it when needed."

"Crowley." Aziraphale stubbornly began pushing back the sword cane that was moved in front of him. Though he paused for a moment, processing the Healer's words. Escape... all that Crowley can do is escape. He was not given the job of being a fighter - Aziraphale was. Yes, he may be able to defend himself at times, though it seemed that the Demon was more interested in messing with his mind, rather than physically. Or so he could only assume.

Perhaps there was a way to protect him either way.

Perhaps...

"Crowley..." The Angel spoke out once more, repeating the name with a less bitter tone. His eyes lowered to the sword cane, fingertips brushing the material subtly. He stayed silent, making sure what he says next is clear. The last thing he wanted was for his fellow Angel to get hurt in any more ways, so the Principality will do anything just to protect him. "I suppose I will take your cane. But only for a request of my own. A promise if you prefer to call it that." 

Those metallic eyes glanced up to stare at Crowley as if he was completely serious in this. As he should be.

"I want you to stay in the house at all costs until that Demon is dealt with."

Crowey looks away, not able to meet the other's eye when he starts to protest, he can feel the hesitation. Crowley wasn't the fighter, he wouldn't be able to fight with a sword, not without training, it wasn't in his nature. They were sent to Earth together because they complemented each other, the sword and shield, they had their roles to play, and his wasn't to be on offence.

He looks up at the less harsh call of his name, sensing that this was not heading towards the fight he had foreseen happening. Aziraphale had a suggestion, no, a promise for him to make in exchange for the sword? Crowley had never been much good at refusing the principality anything, but he hesitated at the request.

"Aziraphale. I still have my earthly work to attend to. There are humans who are in need of my services. I can't sit at home and neglect my duties." He sighs, knowing that the other is looking out for him, but he can't rob humanity of his gifts, that would truly be selfish of him. As tempting as it is, he can't just accept that easily.

"I can cover your work too. That will not be a problem for me."

Aziraphale's stare lingered for less than a minute, though it was so intense it felt longer than it originally was. Perhaps the other will change his mind, and he wanted to give him that opportunity before proceeding with the choice. "Right." He muttered, letting go of the cane and instead grabbing his cup of tea to soothe the nerves pulsating in his temples. 

"If that is the case, I will not accept your generous gift. I apologise, Crowley." If the stubbornness of the blond wasn't visible before, it was now, reaching towards its peak level. Maybe he cares and worries a little too much for the Healer in front of him, but nothing would be able to convince him to stop doing so. Nothing and nobody, except himself.

"Wait." Crowley's eyes flash with worry for a second, before he schools himself back into self control. "I can't expect you to cover my duties. But, prehaps a compromise?" He knew better than to fight Aziraphale on this, not only was the Principality technically of a higher ranking, he was extremely stubborn when he believes he is in the right about a situation. 

Over the millenia, he'd learnt to get creative in how he words things, and makes compromises when his ideas are rejected. He'd gotten good at staying on the other Angel's good side, without causing a full on argument when they do not see eye to eye.

"What if, say. You accompany me on my duties. When I am alone, I remain here. But if I need to venture outside of these walls, then it is only with you at my side." That way Aziraphale can feel that Crowley is safe, and Aziraphale can remain protected and armed.

A compromise, huh? Most of the times, Crowley suggested something completely different to his ideas, which he may not fully agree with, though this... This was... unique. 

Aziraphale swallowed down his herbal tea, the warmth of it steadily evaporating into the spacious living room. He knew what he was doing: getting things his own way, or at least trying to get it as close as possible to what he wanted, just because he was stubborn enough for another's safety. Perhaps his need to defend others might cause them more harm than good, but that wasn't his problem at the very moment. 

"I accompany you?" The Principality raised an eyebrow, seemingly interested in the idea of being able to protect his dear Crowley, while he wielded a weapon no one knew about. "We may have settled on an agreement then..." It was easier than expected, in all honesty. Though when things go to plan, everything seems to flow smoothly.

Crowley could be as stubborn as Aziraphale, and it was a wonder they hadn't had more big falling outs over the years, but they were good at cutting things off, or making small compromises. This was no different. And Crowley wasn't willing to budge much more past the compromise he'd set down.

"Really?" He'd been expecting resistance, building himself up to state his case and exactly why that would be the best course of action. But there wasn't any this time. Aziraphale agreed straight off the bat, no amendments needed. "Well then. I'm glad we agree." He was a little taken aback that he'd gotten through on his first offer, but he wasn't going to risk the other changing his mind.

It wasn't a perfect plan, and Crowley still came out of it with less freedom than he'd like, but it would do for the time being, while things were still tense with that vile creature on the loose. And it let him get some fresh air and move about a bit while fulfilling his duties. He didn't mind the principality's company, in fact, that part of the agreement was a very welcomed one, getting to spend more time together. It's the staying home alone part he didn't like. He didn't like being cooped up, he felt trapped unable to leave a place, which is why he was quick to offer a reason for him to be able to leave.

The Principality finished drinking his tea, placing the cup back on its plate, before catching a glimpse of the other's half-full cup. "Not going to finish yours? The tea is already turning cold." He turned back to Crowley, eyebrow raised slightly. However, it only proved how uniquely different they were. The Angel ignored everything else but the problem at hand, trying to get to the end of it, while the Principality also has the same goal, but different way of dealing with the problem. Discussing it, and if it gets too nerve-wracking, he will consume a beverage to keep most of his feelings back.

"Anyways... you mentioned you were tired. Exhausted from... healing my wounds." Aziraphale sat back in his chair, eyes still watching Crowley carefully, "Thank you again. Though you deserve some sort of rest."

"Ah, right. I don't mind it cold." Truthfully, Crowley had quite forgotten about the tea in his haste to explain the cane and come to some arrangement. He often forgot irrelevant things when he was busy fussing and worrying over a bigger picture, but now he was more relaxed, he picked up the cup again to resume drinking his, now only slightly above room temperature, tea.

"I shall be fine. I had the sense to stop before it became a problem. Which is why there are only the necessary wards in place to hide my blessing." He might be feeling the power drain right now, but it was manageable. In the past he hadn't shown such restraint, pushing himself to exhaustion, and on a few occasions, even to unconsciousness. He just couldn't let people suffer if he had the capacity to make their miserable lives just a bit better, especially when there were children involved. The plague had been a particularly difficult time for him.

His shoulder rolled back at the mention of healing the other's wounds, subconsciously trying to ease the sore feeling he was still feeling from the bite. It was deep, and would have been uncomfortable anyway, but the echo of darkness from the demonic mark seemed to be resisting. Luckily he could feel that it  had already diminished somewhat, it would just take a long time it would seem.

After a while of examining Crowley's facial expressions and subtle movements of the shoulders, Aziraphale leaned his weary head back to the chair, letting the inhaled air to emit through his nose audibly. "I would assume so. You've done enough miracles already, and the sun has just begun to rise." 

The subtle sunrays slowly lit up the room, peeking out from gaps of the shut curtains. It was still fairly dark outside, though the rising sun will be able to change that in a while. This was a perfect Sunday morning - the day that the Almighty rested on and let her unique creations to show off its beauty.

Aziraphale glanced back over to the other, parting his lips to ask the question of whether they should go for a morning walk later, like they always manage to do every Sunday. But... no. He suddenly snapped his mouth shut. The Healer is tired. Even as he sits in his own armchair, he looks beyond exhausted, and even mildly uncomfortable. It was a stupid idea. 

With a furrowed eyebrow, the Angel got up from his seat and walked over to the window, letting his hands run gently down the curtains as he slowly peered them open to let in some light. "What a beautiful sunrise..." The sky was painted with colours of the rainbow, mixing and blending in smoothly. Every vibrant colour complimented each other, bringing awe into the Angel's grey eyes. "Wouldn't you like to see?

The healer could have easily pushed himself and done more, but he'd thought better of it, especially because he knew how it would upset the principality to find him in a state of exhaustion after everything that had happened.

Crowley finished his tea, watching the other get up and open the curtains, he hadn't realised that it was so far into the morning, still not quite settling into the time or day after his long, though not as long as it should have experienced been, nap. How long had Aziraphale claimed he'd been asleep? Nine days? He did some quick calculations, and worked out that Aziraphale was asking, because it must be a Sunday. 

Closing his eyes, he tries to assess the damage. He is not too weak that he needed to sleep it off, he could hold himself perfectly well, as long as he didn't exercise his Angelic powers to any great extent. The damage form Aziraphale was gone, save for the demonic mark that stubbornly refused to disperse with any ease. 

"If I feel up to our usual walk, then you would have to accompany me, wouldn’t you?" He lets a teasing smile come to his face, as if he didn't enjoy their walks together, sometimes arm in arm, through the park each sabbath.

With a small, but gentle smile, Aziraphale opened the curtains properly and tied them back using the tieback attached to the wall. The beams of sunlight immediately lit up the room that was now revealed to the outside, though the figure of the Angel prevented Crowley from getting blinded by the sudden flash of light. Slowly, the figure moved away from the window, and this time towards the other that remained seated.

"I am sure you would be discontented with the unfortunate news of needing to be accompanied by me while on a stroll around London. How inconvenient." Aziraphale played along with the banter, the smile on his lips growing wider as he tightened his robe's belt and stopped in front of the table. With a hum, he began tidying up the surface of it - starting off with the now empty cups and stacking them together so he could bring them back to the kitchen. 

"However..." The Principality continued, eyes glancing up from the cups and to Crowley for a split second, before going back to what he was working on. "That will all depend on if you're feeling well enough for a walk."

"Very inconvenient. Having to spend even more time with you whilst on a leisurely stroll through the park." Crowley chuckled, enjoying the little back and forth, it was a welcomed bit of silliness, laid back routine between them. It felt like normal, something familiar, and he was very grateful for it.

"Perhaps some fresh air will do us both some good." He nodded, standing up to stretch, glancing back at the sunrise outside their window. They didn't usually venture out when the sun was still rising, and the view of London, muggy with its usual early morning smog, but lit up with brilliant picks and oranges, was practically picturesque. 

"Shall I retire to get dressed then?" He'd slept in these clothes for over a week, he'd feel better with a change of clothes, and Aziraphale would also need to change.

"Hold on..." Aziraphale excused himself, shuffling over to the kitchen to put away the cups and plates before arriving back into the living room, looking up at the taller figure that decided to finally get up. He glanced over his clothes, an eyebrow raised slightly at the obviously lined and folded clothes, marked with creases that shouldn't be there. The least Crowley could do was iron it out, but even then he will still have the task to wash it completely. 

"Indeed... that would be a wise choice." He finally commented, before looking at his own clothes. A robe and some slippers. Was he any better? At least his clothes weren't rumpled... "Perhaps it would be wise for me to get dressed too. I've been in this robe for too long." 

Eyeing the grandfather clock, the Angel examined the time. 5:38 in the morning. "I will give you 10 minutes to make yourself look more presentable. 12 minutes maximum."

Crowley could always miracle his clothes presentable, it wouldn't be the first time. He didn't have the same penchant for doing everything the human way like Aziraphale did, though he did enjoy some things being done manually. However, this time, it wouldn't be wise to be using miracles for something as frivolous as clothing.

"Ten minutes. That seems perfectly doable." He nodded, making his way towards the stairs. He did raise an eyebrow at the ultimatum of twelve minutes maximum, was this how Aziraphale was going to take this arrangement? Him dictating when and how Crowley was allowed do leave the house? 

That was an issue for another time, they both enjoyed their Sunday morning walks, and he doubted there would be much repercussions for him taking his time, still, he would be ready and waiting within the time.

The Principality followed the other upstairs, before separating their own ways, into their own rooms where they could change. Aziraphale opened his dresser, taking out some chosen items of clothing that were neatly folded and stored inside. Shirt, socks, union suit. Then to the wardrobe to grab a suit and trousers hung to keep them from creasing. 

Only a minute or two passed, but Aziraphale decided to head over to the bathroom once more. It seemed like a much more preferable area to change in, and he would also be able to put his robe away there too. And... get a glimpse of the nasty scar that decorated his neck. With a frown, his body turned away from the mirror - focusing back on hanging up his used robe, and beginning to dress himself up.

Although, his eyes kept glancing back at the mirror.

With a gulp, Aziraphale stepped towards the object that reflected back the fret look on his face, hand rising up to pull down the collar of his shirt to get a better look at the somewhat healed wound. It's never going to disappear, huh? His breath hitched, eyes watering at the obvious truth. The constant reminder of the dreadful event only hours ago. And there they were again, getting ready to head out for a walk when their safety from the Demon wasn't clearly guaranteed. He still could be there, and the two Angels were just walking right into the trap.

No... no. Perhaps a short stroll could do. Not too long, but enough to get the fresh air of dawn that they desperately needed. Now wipe those tears away, Aziraphale. They're not needed. His mind was cruel. Corrupted in a way which could not be fixed easily. Whether the incident earlier made it worse, he was not sure. But he was sure that he sounded bitter without possessing the need to. Especially towards Crowley. 

His eyes travelled over to the watch on his wrist. 5:46 a.m. God, if he did not hurry, he was going to be late to the very thing he arranged. 

Not wasting any more time, the Principality slipped on his vest and suit, before looking at the mirror once more, rubbing the icy blue eyes that visibly sparkled without the assistance of bright light.

Crowley couldn't help catching his own reflection as he changed in his room. He'd half expected to see the wound he could feel against his neck, even though he knew how his healing worked, there was never any visual marks, just the pain and sensations, so he only briefly glanced over the area. Only to pause, and lean towards the mirror. 

There wasn't a mark as such, but the skin was darkened, like a shadow under his skin, and he wondered if it was because this wound was demonic in nature. But he shook his head, it didn't mean anything, it had already started to disperse, hopefully it would be gone before the day is out, if he was lucky. The healing was very slow.

He'd pulled his wings away some time during Aziraphale's bath, looking more human and tired in his reflection, the lamps playing odd shadows over his reflection. He tore his attention away, searching for a suitable suit in his wardrobe. 

He settled on a charcoal grey suit jacket, black trousers, and waistcoat over his light grey shirt and cravat. Straightening his clothes and making sure he looked perfectly presentable before heading down the stairs and waiting by the door. He retrieved his cane form the living room, and debated on getting another, since this one would technically belong to Aziraphale from now on.


	9. Aftermath - part 5

5:50 a.m. and a creak of the door upstairs was heard, then followed by footsteps that were dragged, too slow for a short moment, to then change into a moderate speed. As he was about to step downstairs, Aziraphale paused, adrenaline rushing up his whole body as it jumped at the sight of Crowley already waiting for him. 

"I am quite a hypocrite, it seems." The voice of the figure, dressed in a mixture of brown and tan clothing, echoed around the hallway as he finally stepped next to the other and pulled out his boots for the walk. "I make you hurry while I take my time." He continued talking with a soft huff, having a little trouble putting the footwear on with the shoehorn.

"Anywho," Aziraphale smiled weakly at the taller Angel, putting on a top hat right before twisting the door handle and opening the double doors for the other. "After you."

"I'd hardly call it hypocrisy." Crowley assured, looking down at the pocket watch on his waistcoat. "I've been later than this without you making comment." Sometimes, usually Aziraphale was very on the ball with berating him for his lack of punctuality, but it's not like Crowley was keeping count.

He smiled, passing his cane over to his friend, the silver of the snake standing out against the black of the cane, and a stark contrast to the numeral colours Aziraphale was wearing. He resisted saying 'no, after you', and average a nod of thanks, stepping through the door and holding it open for the principality.

Aziraphale accepted the cane with his free hand as it passed over to him without any further discussion, though there wasn't the need anymore. They've already made their deal, even when it was more beneficial for the Principality's worries rather than the other Angels’. 

It seemed as if washing his face didn't exactly refresh it, because the blond was back to frowning displeasing at how he did not give Crowley enough freedom to speak up and let his voice be heard and processed properly. 

"Thank you." The shorter figure nodded with a quick glance up at Crowley while he held the door open for him to leave, though his eyes managed to lower the moment he walked past him and was left waiting for the other to lock the door. With a shaky grip, his fingers brushed the top of the cane, stroking the silver coated serpent head as he waited as patiently as he could.

Crowley locked up behind them, dropping the key back into his pocket before coming up beside the principality and offering him his arm. "Shall we?"

It wasn't ideal, this little arrangement, Crowley didn't have much freedom, and Aziraphale would need to be with him each time he had a duty to fulfil, or whether he needed some fresh air. Not to mention having to stay alone in the house then the principality needed to leave for his own reasons. But what else could they do, they both worried for the other’s safety with that Demon on the prowl.

Once the click of the door locking rang through Aziraphale's ears, his attention was back on his surroundings. "Hm-?" With a slight raised eyebrow, the Angel looked up at Crowley's face, expecting to find an obvious answer in his look, though all he did was stare back at the Principality. In confusion, his eyes drifted down to be greeted with an arm reaching out for him to take.  _ Oh. Oh, right. The walk. _

"Ah. Let's." Aziraphale nodded briefly, stepping a tad closer to the other to let their arms link without much awkwardness or discomfort - tugging each other from their own sway of walking. However, over the years of taking these strolls around London, they've managed to compliment and match each other's style, walking almost terrifyingly in sync.

"Off to St James's Park, I assume?" He suggested with a gentle smile, beginning to walk along the street that lead to the parks such as the well known Hyde Park and St James's Park: both quite close to each other.

"Something on your mind?" Crowley asked, seeing that Aziraphale was looking like he was expecting him to say something. Almost immediately he regretted his automatic response. Of course there was something on his mind, the whole ordeal was bound to still be on his mind, if not even more than it was on Crowley's. He was probably overthinking things again, nasty habit, only made him anxious all the time.

Outwardly, he just smiled. "St. James’s should be lovely this time of the morning. I imagine the lake reflects the sunrise beautifully." His hands felt empty without his cane, stuffing his free hand into his pocket, he glanced over at the cane in Aziraphale's grip. The principality quite suited a cane, it gave him even more of an air of culture about him, which was an achievement because he carried himself that way naturally.

"I can imagine." Aziraphale's lips curved into a much warmer smile at the thought of getting to see the breathtaking sight of little reflections of sun rays on the still lake populated with ducks, geese and even swans. It was a beautiful day for the middle of November. Usually, rain would pour out continuously, and if not, clouds would linger in the air, threatening the local civilians to rain at any time.

Though, as they continued to walk down the street, the Principality caught sight of another road in the right corner of his eye. Subconsciously, he tugged on Crowley's arm, while beginning to speed walk past the alleyway. It loomed with a sense of darkness only he could feel, fueled all due to his paranoia and trauma from midnight. 

By then, his smile was long gone. With a hitched breath, Aziraphale kept turning his head back - expecting for a figure to stalk behind the two gentlemen as they walked past the empty street.

"Y-Yes... something was on my mind but..." He forgot. There was a new problem arising, so the other one was thrown out the window completely. He had to deal with the somewhat internal anxiety rising, or else he was going to go completely mad once again.

Something made Crowley look towards the alley, not sure why that one in particular took his attention. That is, until Aziraphale tugged on his arm to put distance between them and it, constantly looking back like he was paranoid of being jumped any second. It didn't take a lot of intelligence to put two and two together, and Crowley to work out what was wrong.

"Maybe we should take a more scenic route on the way back." Crowley suggested, swallowing his own anxiety, trying not to drag it all back to the surface and keep a clear head. If his friend wanted to talk then he would be here to listen, but if not, he was giving him an opportunity to keep it to himself as well, whatever he needed.

Crowley didn't want to be near that place either that's where it had happened. He remembered how hard it had been for him to return to the ritual grounds, he understood what Aziraphale must feel, and he unconsciously took a tighter grip on his fellow Angel’s arm as they sped away from the alley. 

"Or we could turn back. Head back to the house." That alley was less than a five minutes walk from their house. If Aziraphale had screamed then he would have been able other hear him. It happened so close, and Crowley had no idea, the thought sent a shiver through him. Angelic rage fought with his anxiety and fear, how a creature of evil could assault his principality, so close to the safety of their own home.

"No...no. Let's keep going to our original destination." The blond refused to stop or go back to their house. Right now, he did not want to be anywhere near that alley, and it seemed as if Crowley did not either as his walking speed increased and caught up. 

However, with the pace they were storming at, it did not take too long until the street was a good length away from them. "Right." Aziraphale sighed out shakingly, trying to fight what he thought was just a useless fight or flight response from the adrenaline boiling in his blood. "I... think we're okay. Might have overreacted and acted foolish back there. I apologise." He murmured, not looking Crowley up at his face - feeling too busy staring down at the ground and watching his own feet slow down bit by bit as the two moved away from their home, and towards the public park.

"As you wish. " Crowley nodded, knowing that it was probably best to keep going, not let it spoil their day if they could help it. But he kept an eye on Aziraphale, watching for any signs that it was too much, or he needed to take his friend back home to recover. 

If it weren't for their new arrangement, he might venture there himself alone, check for any signs of what happened and if there was anything needed to be cleaned, or taken care of. Even the thought made his stomach churn with fear, but he'd have done it, just to be sure. As it was however, he was spared the terrifying jab, hoping that Aziraphale himself would stay away.

He placed a comforting hand over his fellow Angel’s, where it was held to his arm. "It's not an overreaction. You remember how much I didn't want to return to the ritual site? You are far stronger than I, Aziraphale. You are no fool." Crowley assured, feeling a sense of pride in the Principality, at how well Aziraphale had held himself. He didn't fall to pieces once he saw the place where he had been violated. It must have only been a few hours now, and yet he walked on, and tried to carry on as normal.

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, continuing to look down as he walked, though this time his eyes stared at the hand soothingly stroking his. "Yes, but..." He finally looked up at Crowley, those grey eyes steadily turning into ocean blue as they opened up the feelings hiding inside the wildly thumping heart. If his surroundings were purely silent, then the thumping of that human organ storing his soul would beat continuously in his ear like an African drum. It would drive him to the pits of insanity.

"You saw a fellow friend, and an  _ Archangel _ get mauled to death." The Principality murmured, the topic feeling bitter on his tongue and throat. "That is completely different with my situation... and even worse too." 

The look he was giving him - the look of pure sadness and regret - was quite similar to the one hours ago. But this time it was a little more controlled. Aziraphale did not enjoy expressing his misery to anyone. It felt embarrassing - unneeded. Hence why after staring up at the other Angel for a while, he once again turned away and instead focused on the open gateway they were approaching. 

St. James's Park. There it was.

Crowley's eyes closed, taking a deep breath, and letting it out in a slow exhale before opening his eyes. He can't. He can't dwell on that now, can't think too hard on Raziel. It has been over a week for Aziraphale, but Crowley had been asleep, it's still fresh. 

"I may have. Or I may have ran before it happened. I have no memory, and perhaps that is for the best." He's not sure if he could take it, the full memory and sensations of how it happened, it hurt enough seeing the aftermath, cleaning the blood.... "But you were present. You remember. You had something so terrible happen to you, directly by that creature. Your situation is worse." Not to mention the fact Crowley is sure he doesn't know the full picture, there are parts Aziraphale has omitted in his recollection, and those are the parts he feared the most for his friend.

The gates of St. James’s Park had never looked so inviting. Nothing bad had happened there, it was a beautiful spot in the midst of a gloomy city, and hopefully its usual peace could help to ease their troubled minds.

The two of them were obviously stubborn. If no one or nothing was there to stop them, there would be a high probability of them getting into an argument on who has the situation worse. While one thought that what they're going through is nothing like the fellow Angel's, the other argued back in disagreement. Such childish arguments over such adult subjects.

But Aziraphale stayed quiet, sinking his teeth into his tongue to stay quiet and put aside the subject in silence. At first, he disregarded the single thought of opening up Crowley's internal wounds by mentioning Raziel... Though the body language and long inhale of the other made Aziraphale fill up with regret for even mentioning anything about it.

Mindless thoughts were clouding and stuffing his brain so much, that the Principality didn't even get to enjoy the beauty of the park. Not for a while at least. 

It took him a couple of seconds to readjust back to his surroundings, while being guided into the park by the Angel he linked arms with, before a broken smile rested on his face. 

"Seems quite empty... plenty of benches to choose from, huh?"

"I am sorry. There is no point in arguing, is there? We would both rather take the pains of the other, but unfortunately, that isn't in our power." Crowley sighed, honestly too tired to fight over this. They both cared more for the other's suffering than their own, it was in their nature. "All we can do, is be there for eachother."  _ To pick up the pieces when we can't pull ourselves from the trappings of or own traumatic experiences. _

"It's too early for many. The sun hasn't long risen." Crowley commented, looking up at the purple sky, still with streaks of pink and orange, it really was a pretty sunrise. But the beauty of St. James’s was only providing a backdrop right now, the serenity that usually came from such a walk postponed by their emotions.

Aziraphale turned his head to look over at Crowley as he voiced his mind and came to the decision that the causeless arguments, that only gave them an excuse for why they should care for each other more than themselves (excluding the fact that they are creatures of love), should be put to an end and thrown behind them before it got bitter. They were here to enjoy the (somewhat) fresh air of Central London, rather than bicker meaninglessly. 

"Indeed." He nodded, eyes following in the direction Crowley was staring at, curious to what caught his attention. His lips parted in awe at the mixture of warm and cool colours of the sky, complimented by the autumn orange leaves that decorated the trees, or were neatly raked into a pile for future disposal. 

"Oh." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised up, forehead creasing at the sudden surprise. Usually, the lake would be inhabited with swans, white as the snow that was hopefully incoming in a couple of weeks. This time, a black swan swam alongside the edges of the lake, looking for any leftover crumbs of bread from past visitors. "I've never recognised this swan before... Have you, dear?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow, while letting go of the Angel's arm and going over to sit down at a bench lit up by faint sun rays of dawn.

"No. Don't often see black ones." Crowley acknowledged liking to see some variety from the usual water fowl, he's pretty sure he can identify individual ducks at this point, and what type of bread they tend to prefer, but this swan was new. And when it stretched out his wings, the jet black feathers reflected in the water, mixing the dark with the colours of the sky.

He briefly wondered if it was a good or bad omen, sure that humans probably had a superstition about it, as they do with cats, though no one seems to quite agree on if a black cat was lucky or not, probably the same for swans he mused, taking his seat next to Aziraphale on the bench.

The Principality shuffled over to the side when the other moved to sit beside him, while he pulled up the cane from the ground and onto his lap to rest there instead. With a hushed sigh, Aziraphale let his body relax as he sat, just to then tense up for a quick moment as the autumn breeze brushed past his skin. 

"Ah..." The flushed face from the cold of dawn turned to look up at Crowley, "A bit chilly, isn't it?" He asked, smile painting his lips. This was going to be one of the only times the two Angels could enjoy their morning in peace, and Aziraphale decided he won't let that opportunity fly by. "Reminds me that winter is just around the corner."

"Can expect snow soon I expect." Crowley agreed, turning his attention from the swan to the sky. "I hope our little friend here finds someplace warmer to settle down." He smiles, gesturing back to the swan.

"You forget your gloves." He commented, noticing when Aziraphale pulled the cane into his lap. "Here." Crowley dug in his pockets for his own black gloves, he tended not to wear them, didn't like the lack of feeling they gave. He didn't like having idle hands, usually he was absent-mindedly stroking the intricate details of his cane, or tapping his fingers along his coat or legs.

_ Forgot my gloves? _

Aziraphale glanced down to his hands from Crowley's face, as he was snapped back to the realisation that his gloves were indeed not present. "Oh... how foolish of--" And then, cutting off the Angel's subtle self-degrading sentence, a pair of black gloves appeared in his eyesight. 

With a light-hearted chuckle, the blond figure took the item of clothing against the cold offered to him, his obviously freezing cold hands brushing past Crowley's - radiating mild warmth. "Thank you, dear." He muttered, slipping on the gloves on his reddish and pale hands, to then realise how the Healer's hands were bigger than his. 

_ Huh. How odd. _

"Anytime." Crowley smiled, glad to have been some help to his friend. His cane would keep the principality save, his gloves keep him warm, and his presence stop him from retreating into his trauma again. He looked back over the lake, a few more ducks braving the chilly morning to join the black Swan in searching for food. 

London would be starting to wake around them soon, and the peace would be broken by the sounds of people bustling about. But right now, in St. James’s Park, two Angels could let the beauty of a new day distract them from their recent ordeals.


	10. Things that go bump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a little irregular for awhile, real life things making it hard to focus on editing and writing

That Sunday was indeed the last day they could enjoy a couple of hours in tranquility, as the whole week was packed with duties they had to complete. If not, they would've shut themselves out and worked on the endless paperwork for Heaven. On, and on, and on.

A week has passed, and no sign of the Demon that was well-known to the two Angels by now. They expected  _ some _ sort of attack. Perhaps even an appearance or aura of evil. But there was nothing. Just the local civilians and them. 

After finishing his own duty, Aziraphale rushed back home, needing to go back and wake up Crowley so he could get ready to head out for his own work shift. The red-head decided to take a nap to prepare for another busy day, which seemed to be what humans were doing these days, but Aziraphale did not judge what he couldn't understand. Why being unconscious for a period of time was so addictive and... relaxing?

"Crowley!" The Principality called out from downstairs as he stepped inside the house, removing the top hat from his head and hanging it up on a hanger. "Crowley, we must leave soon."  _ Is he still taking his unnecessarily long nap? _ At the lack of noise from the bedroom, Aziraphale concluded it may be true. Or he was ignoring him on purpose. 

By the third time he called the Healer's name, the Principality arrived at the bedroom's door.  _ Why was he so silent? Why... _ The door creaked open with just a little push... but just like from the living nightmare of the previous week, there was no one there. 

...

_ No, no! Not again! _ "Crowley!" The shaky voice roared out as a cry for help from his missing friend or a desperate call to get him back. Adrenaline rose up to the top of his head, triggering all the switches on to  _ run away _ , or look for his fellow Angel as soon as possible. He didn't want this to repeat once again. He couldn't bear the trauma.

_ Please, Lord, do not do this! _

The house was silent, not a sound from any room, upstairs or downstairs. The whole house felt empty. The window, whose blinds had been drawn before, was open just slightly, the curtains billowing slightly with the chilly winter air.

Downstairs there was a sudden loud noise. A door slamming open from the back of the house, followed by another smaller bang, and low hiss, heavy footsteps moving around the kitchen.

At the loud bang of the door, accompanied by thunderous footsteps against the hard, wooden floor from downstairs, Aziraphale's heart dropped.  _ Was the Demon... inside the mansion? Oh, God he's going to get attacked in his own house. _

Not wanting to cause some accidental creaking noises while walking along the hallway on the first floor and climbing down the stairs, he ended up teleporting himself towards the front door - right where he left his cane. The footsteps did not seem to ease, meaning that perhaps he wasn't sensed just yet. Perhaps the creature doesn't know he's there. Perhaps he doesn't... All that is left is hope that he doesn't, while Aziraphale made his way to the kitchen, drawing out the sword from the cane.

Suddenly, ripping the door open, the Principality pierced his sword towards the figure, though stopped halfway - the tips of the blade pressing into the dark, rich material of a coat. If the sword were to pierce through the figure's body, it wouldn't be as bad as the glare glinting in the Angel's eyes.

Perhaps it was fortunate that the weapon did not come in any more contact with the other, because at the realisation of who it was, those wildly grey eyes widened in shock, dropping the sword to the ground immediately.

The figure turns as the door is flung open, only to quickly push himself backwards against the counter as the blessed steel tip is thrust towards his chest. Bright yellow eyes meeting the dangerous storm of the Principality, shock and surprise written over his features.

"Aziraphale?!" Crowley's eyes are wide, looking from his friend, to the gifted sword pressing so close that it was biting into his thick winter coat. He hadn't heard the other come home, a few ceramic pots on the inside of the kitchen showed that he'd been working in the garden, the source of the banging.

The healer’s clothes were flecked with dirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a small cut along one of his fingers which he'd been holding under the tap, hissing at the sting of the cold water hitting his cut.

"I suppose I should have been paying more attention?" He let out a nervous breath he hadn’t realised he'd been holding when the sword finally dropped to the ground with a clatter.

"O-Oh God." The Principality let out a shallow, rasping breath, glancing down to stare down at his shaking hands, as if he murdered a man and was paralysed in disbelief. "I-I didn't hurt you did I?!" Pushing the sword out of the way with his foot, the troubled Angel stepped closer to the other and patted over his build, checking that Crowley was still stable and not hurt by him in any way. The last thing he would’ve wanted was to injure him, especially when it is accidental.

"I thought you disappeared again! And... and, a-and that he was back for us--" Aziraphale whimpered out through trembling lips, eyes watering up when he pulled the taller Angel into a firm embrace. "I'm so... so sorry."

"No. No damage done." Crowley's breathing was a little heavy from his scare, and he was still processing how quickly it had happened, but he was unharmed. The only mark on him was a small hole in his coat from the tip of the sword

"I'm sorry. I awoke before you came back, and decided to see to the plants. I should have been listening for your return." Aziraphale thought he'd disappeared  _ again _ ? It took him a moment to recall that his friend had claimed to find his room empty before he was attacked as well, still not sure how that was possible since he'd definitely still been asleep.

He pulled the principality into a tight hug, holding each other for comfort, while he striped to sooth the other Angel, feeling how upset he was. "It's alright, Aziraphale. I'd rather you attack first, than hesitate if there was any real danger."

Aziraphale blinked away the tears that threatened to escape and roll down his cheek, while his head rested on the other’s heaving chest – rising up and down heavily. He wasn’t exactly sure if the rise of anxiety was from nearly stabbing another Angel with a weapon they’d blessed themselves, or having the possibility of encountering the Demon that clearly haunted the two on and on.

Maybe he was worrying too much and the said Demon was not interested in the Angels anymore?

“...And I would rather hesitate than injure you by mistaking you for somebody else.” The blond murmured when his deep exhales soothed out, then steadily pulled away from Crowley to grab a napkin and wipe his face.

"No. The worst you could have done is injure me." Not completely sure, since there was a possibility of him discorporating if Aziraphale happened to hit something important with that sword. Crowley wasn’t sure if the discorporation would be worse, or explaining everything to heaven, probably the latter.

"You thought I had left... Aziraphale, I promised not to leave unless you were by my side. I thought the gardens were okay, since the wards cover them, I'm sorry if I was mistaken. I should have let you know I was still here." This could very well be his fault, if he'd broken the rules of their little arrangement, he hoped that wasn't the case, but maybe they should have clarified.

The principality might very well have had a perfectly reasonable reaction. He thought Crowley had disappeared, and that something else was in their house, he couldn't be blamed for trying to protect himself and their home.

Aziraphale shook his head, putting the napkin away into his pocket as he had a feeling he would need to reuse it for later. "No, no, the gardens are fine... It was foolish of me to think you disappeared from the house, and the Demon took the... opportunity to attack." He murmured, eyes glancing back down to the floor, before picking up the dropped sword as it was only a danger hazard by laying there. "The house is secured... protected anyways."

The Principality took a step back, not wanting to look up at Crowley from all of the shame he was feeling. He has broken down so many times in front of him, and for no reason in particular. This ongoing habit is only going to be the death of the two. "I apologise... I will go put this away. Maybe help you carry your stuff inside properly."

"It doesn't mean we should not be careful." Crowley was fairly certain their wards would hold back a demon, or at the very least, alert them to one’s presence. "We've been steadily increasing the wards, but we do not know what that thing is capable of. Or why it has been so silent lately." The garden should be protected, but it might not be as secure.

There was a good chance that the Demonic entity wasn't earthbound, for it to be so infrequent in his attacks. But it had been over a week now, and they were understandably tense. 

Crowley reached out to put a hand on Aziraphale's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "You do not have to apologise. I am glad to see that you are prepared to use it, should the need arise."

At the touch of his shoulder, the Angel lifted his head up to face Crowley, golden eyes glinting with seriousness in what he was saying. "Right." He straightened his back as the air filled his lungs and refreshed the stressed mind, hands clutching on the handle of the sword. "I suppose you're right."

"Whenever you're ready... we should head over to complete your duty." Aziraphale spoke out, trying to change the subject in order to allow himself for some time to breathe and recollect himself. Perhaps while walking towards their required destination, the fresh air will help him think more - distract him from the minor feeling of exhaustion arising in his body.

Crowley lets a smile warm his expression, feeling some of the tensions lessen form his friend's shoulders, not relaxed, but a little better than before. Aziraphale was naturally a swordsman, though it had been many thousands of years since he lost possession of his heavenly sword, it was good to see that his instincts in handling a blade had not deserted him.

"I won't be a moment." He had known he had a duty to fulfil, but he'd needed to wait for Aziraphale, not wanting to break their arrangement. He made quick work of locking the backdoor and washing off his hands, looking down at the cut on his finger. Healing powers were not meant for personal use, but own wounds healed fairly quickly.

While Crowley locked the room, the Principality went back to the living room to look for the sheath of the sword cane, as he wasn't exactly planning on using it - there was no desperate need to do so.  _ Ah, there it is. _ Thrown away to the side of the room - another danger hazard that he could easily trip over if not careful. Though all that was on his mind before was the noises in the kitchen he needed to go and investigate, the care to place things away neatly thrown out the window. 

Without any more thoughts towards it, Aziraphale put the two pieces back together: inserting the sword back into the sheath, so it would be disguised as an ordinary cane.

Silently, he rested the cane besides the archway of the living room leading to the hallway, before heading over to check upon the Angel still lurking around in the kitchen.

"How did you manage to cut your finger?" Aziraphale asked out of curiosity, as well as confusion. What did he do outside in the garden that caused him to cut himself?

"Hmm? Pruning the rose bushes, must have got distracted. Thorns, shears. Nothing to worry about." Crowley shook his head, just a stupid mistake on his part, should have been paying more attention to the job at hand instead of letting his mind wander.

He looked over to the few plants he'd brought inside some of his garden would survive the winter, laying dormant to regrow next spring, but some needed extra care and warmth. As the healer he was expected it grow certain herbs for his tonics, and they needed to be ready and available even in the winter, he might do literal miracles, but he still needed to keep up appearances

Aziraphale nodded briefly: if Crowley says that it's minor, then he won't really pay much attention to it, especially since the other got it under control. Though sometimes the Principality wished he had some sort of healing powers, similar to the Healer's, as then he could take the pain away easily from others. Yes, that was possible with miracles, but sadly it wouldn't be the same.

Anyways. The Principality concluded his thoughts and snapped back to reality, letting his posture straighten as he looked up to Crowley. "We should head out whenever you're ready. The day is about to end after all." If any more time was wasted, they would have to rush. After all, humanity cannot wait for a miracle or a call of help for too long.

"Right, we should make a move then." Crowley nodded, knowing that he can't wait for his duties. It would have been done by now, but he'd needed to wait for Aziraphale's return. Normally, a call out from him was standard, but sometimes it was important, sometimes it was needed by Heaven for someone to make a very swift recovery, and you don't question heaven on those kinds of matters.

He finished washing the dirt from his hands, rolling down his sleeves and making himself presentable as he headed towards the door for his top hat and case.

In silence, the Principality followed. He picked up the sword cane on the way out of the living room, while going over to retrieve the top hat he put away, as well as some white gloves in the last split second before leaving. With a turn of the door knob and a pull towards himself, the door opened widely to let Crowley through.

"After you." Aziraphale muttered quite mindlessly - head focusing on the inner thoughts rather than most of his surroundings. Perhaps he should go back to Heaven. For a day or two, at the very least. The Principality hasn't informed the fellow Leaders and Voices of Heaven of the events that have occurred over the month, so obviously it must seem quite suspicious.

Once the other Angel stepped out of the house, Aziraphale followed, slipping on his milk-white gloves after making sure to lock the door.

The last thing he wanted was for Heaven to get suspicious, and possibly rank him down to any other level. Not to mention the Healer that accompanies him, and what may become of him if that were to happen.

"Know which location are you heading over to?"

"Yes, it's only a few streets away, not far." He could have been there and back before Aziraphale had returned, which made him sigh. He had to bring it up, it had been on his mind for the last couple of days, it was the reason he'd been distracted earlier in the garden.

"Listen, I've been thinking. The kind of duties I perform can be time sensitive. And I can't just ignore, or refuse a direct  _ assignment _ ." If Heaven required him to be somewhere, then it could be a matter of life or death, they didn't always give him a wide window of opportunity to do his job. "If my heaven requires me to leave the house, I won't be able to keep our agreement." It was rare, but it could happen. 

He couldn't be kept locked up in their house indefinitly, they hadn't seen or heard Andy sign of the Demon for a week, he could strike at any time, or have moved on from London all together. How long would Aziraphale give it before he let Crowley have his freedom back. It was maddening, being locked in his own home, especially without the Principality's company when he left to attend his own duties.

Aziraphale listened intently as asked of him, but the hidden suggestion of ending the agreement started to block out everything else that the other may want to add on. Yes, sometimes Heaven can be a quite persistent with the constant requests, life threatening or not, though the safety of the Angels working on them should also be considered.

All this work. All this running back and forth, for what? Nothing?

His eyebrows knitted. "I don't know." A murmur was heard from the shorter Angel, who now ducked his head down to his neck and turned away. He did not have the clearest mind as of now to talk about this. Especially after the scare that someone else may be inside their house. Yes, it may have been a little childish and immature to immediately jump to conclusions, though the Principality was on edge.

"Can we talk about this in more detail at a better fitting time?" Aziraphale asked, trying to keep his tone to neutral to not sound as ignorant. He  _ did _ care about Crowley and how he may feel, but in his eyes, his safety may as well be the top priority. "It's best if we do not get distracted from the job."

What happened in the house was part of what spurred Crowley into finally voicing his concerns. If there had been someone inside their house, then obviously he would have to leave, and that would also worry the principality. The agreement was flawed at best. He wouldn't deliberately break the agreement, or put himself into danger, but they couldn't pretend that there weren't exceptional circumstances that made the whole thing null and void. 

"The job is why I'm bringing it up. If there's an emergency, or head office gives me an order, then I'll have to obey. It's not a question of what we want to or not, it's my duty." He was a doctor, and an Angel, two things that required him to be present even when it's inconvenient. But he also knew that if they didn't have this conversation, then they could put it off indefinitely. "I'm not trying to be difficult here. I'm just stating a fact."

Crowley adjusted the black leather gloves he'd put on when leaving the house, pointedly not mentioning how the other Angel turned away from him, not wanting to have this conversation.

Aziraphale exhaled like a bull with a disgruntled face, hot steam of air flying out into the icy breeze. Good thing he had his head turned away to hide his annoyance, though it was quite obvious on how he felt, and how he strongly disagreed with the other's opinion. 

"Right." His voice turned snappy, even making him cringe at how it sounded.  _ Ease down your nerves, Aziraphale. _ The Angel inhaled. Then exhaled. 1... 2... 3... Inhale. Exhale. 

Slowly, but surely, the now better and less jagged breathing rhythm allowed for the figure with blond, curly locks to cool off.

"I understand what you're talking about."

Not exactly. He may understand it, but not agree with it to a full extent. He didn't want to agree with it. As selfish as it may be, at least it may keep them safe. Maybe. Perhaps not-? No. No. It does keep them safe. It will.

"Right." Crowley echoed back. This wasn't the end of this debate, they needed to talk about this, come up with some sort of plan, or something. He had a lot of opinions, and didn't want his own frustrations to cloud his judgment, but he's the only one who gets screwed over in the agreement, he's the one who's lost his freedom. He can't even storm off, because of the blasted promise.

"We’ll talk more on it later then." They'd just turned onto the correct street, the talk would have to wait until after the job was done. For now, he had to concede to drop the subject.


End file.
